


First sentence prompts tumblr

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: I found a list on tumblr and its lovely and imaginative creator was kind enough to let me snag it for our OTP.





	1. I'm pregnant

**Author's Note:**

> I will post the last chapter of 'Determination' on Monday but for now, I hope you enjoy this short drabble.

“I’m pregnant.” That much was clear as well as the understatement of the year given how big the belly was and that they were running down a hospital’s hallway, surrounded by fast talking doctors. “I’m pregnant and you are to blame!”

 

“I…I guess?” James said slowly, confused beyond belief. He remembered getting back to his apartment with someone and then his world got turned upside down because Q was extremely round, red in the face, and cursing the living daylights out of him because he was to blame for everything that was happening to him which, again, made no bloody sense because Q was a _man_. And yes, James was really sure about that despite the baggy suites Q preferred because he checked! Not on purpose, mind you, since no one had a doubt that the Quartermaster was a man, but one would notice something like _that_ down _there_ sometime between ripping said baggy suit off and the first orgasm of the night. “Q, how did this happen?”

 

In hindsight, this wasn’t the right question to ask someone who was trying to squeeze a football through a tiny hole because it made them try to strangle you with your own tie while tugging you closer to them. “You know perfectly well how it happened, Bond,” Q hissed, screaming in his ear as another contraction came. “You’re a right bastard for doing this and then ditching me!” Q accused him, slapping James’ hands away when he tried to push the hair out of his eyes. “I hate you and you will never touch me again!” Of course, as he said that, Q grabbed James’ hand again and squeezed it so tightly that he brought him to his knees. “You should go through this, not me!”

 

“I really don’t think I can,” James muttered, flinching when Q squeezed his hand again and made something in it crack. “I really didn’t think _you_ could and I’m pretty sure we used a condom every time we—”

 

“Are you seriously implying that this isn’t yours?” Q demanded, his lower lip trembling as his green eyes began to fill with tears. “I’m not you! I don’t just do this with everyone!”

 

“I know, I know,” James tried to reassure the sniffling and very pregnant man. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that, but—”

 

“That ‘but’ there makes you even more of an asshole than you already are,” Q interrupted him again, grabbing James by the ear to make sure that he didn’t move away as he let out another horrible scream. “You have no idea how much I hate your right now, Bond! And how much I regret helping you every bloody time you did something stupid and risking my job and my life to save your pathetic one!”

 

James tried not to let himself be affected by Q’s words because it was normal for him to lash out when he was in this much pain – but with the doctors and nurses glaring at him the way they did, he failed miserably. “I didn’t do this on purpose and I’ll be there for our—”

 

“You were never here when I needed you in the past, so why would I believe you when you say that you'll be there in the future?” Q was now openly crying and was really against James’ hugging and massaging attempts, trying to claw his eyes out and headbutt him when he wasn’t digging his nails in his shoulders during his contractions. But James knew how to deal with someone in the middle of a breakdown, so he wrapped his arms around Q’s chest and held on tightly to him until he just gave up and hugged him back, crying. “I hate you! I hate you! It hurts so much, but not as much as I hate you!”

 

James risked everything to kiss Q’s forehead. “I’ll be there for the both or more of you from now on, I promise.” His voice was a trembling whisper and his mind was suddenly flooded with questions about how the future was going to be and he was lucky that there was a chair right under him because somewhere between accidentally dropping the baby and being on the run from the medical community that wanted to experiment on Q, his knees gave out. “We definitely have to quit MI6,” he said after what felt like years, his head snapping up when he heard a baby crying.

 

His surprise was replaced with sudden anger at the sight of 009 with one arm around Q;s shoulders and resting the side of his face against his, both of them making cooing noises at the newborn and looking like the perfect family.

 

“Everything you make is perfection,” 009 was saying because if he ever stopped kissing Q’s ass, he would instantly die – then again, if he didn’t stop trailing little kisses down Q’s chin and shoulder, James was going to slowly kill him, so either way 009 was dead.

 

Q, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be bothered by all the attention he was getting from the double oh agent at all. In fact, Q was making the little noises he usually did when James was nibbling on him and moving his head to make more room for 009 and if that wasn’t completely inappropriate – as well as disgusting, not fair, and wrong on oh so many levels – than he didn’t know what was.

 

“Do you mind?” James growled when neither of the men acknowledged him, flinching when the baby started to cry which, in turn, caused Q to turn and glare at him like he had caught him trying to stuff his child in the washing machine alongside all the knives in the world and a few razor blades for good measure.

 

“Must you ruin everything?” Q asked, turning away from James when he got closer to hide the baby from him. “What are you still doing here anyway? Didn’t you propose to the nurse while my child was crowning?”

 

Now James wasn’t skittish and he’d seen so many horrible things in his life that he believed that nothing could faze him by now. Then again, this would have been the first time he was present at a birthing, so there was a high possibility that he passed out and he just _forgot_ he did, but he was sure that he didn’t hit on anyone! Actually, he stopped actively doing that since the first time he and Q shared a bed – so who had he brought home with him before the heavily pregnant Q showed up?

 

“Everything’s just a huge misunderstanding,” James said slowly, fisting his hands by his side when 009 moved to block his path. “The fact that we’re in a hospital enables me to punch you harder with little fear of killing you, so I would keep my distance if I were you.”

 

“Do you hate seeing other people happy that you would hurt my future husband?” Q asked, wobbling out of bed with their child safely cradled against his chest, 009 quickly moving to wrap himself around him, a short priest peeking at him from behind them.

 

Okay, now James definitely knew that something was wrong because nothing happened that would have caused him to pass out in the last five minutes. Not to mention that the priest appeared out of nowhere as did Eve, R, M, and the rest of the other people that only looked vaguely familiar to him.

 

“Stop reading from the Bible,” James exploded when he realized that the priest was half-way through marrying the two. “Q, don’t you think we need to talk about this? I mean you somehow just had my child?”

 

“Everything I make, you destroy, so this is the last time you see him or me. Not that you care about me outside of getting your needs taken care of and your latest toys,” Q said without turning away from the priest.

 

“That’s not true,” James said in his defence, struggling to shake off the double oh agents that had come down on him like a swarm of angry insects. “Q, don’t you think you’re going too far just because I broke your bloody teapot and said that I didn’t care? I’ll buy you ten others, so just stop this already!”

 

He didn’t understand why he chose to say that, but he clearly remembered being startled while trying to pour tea by one of Q’s cats suddenly jumping on the table next to him and then a definitely not pregnant Q walking in and looking devastated beyond belief and then him saying something extremely stupid because if he could change Q’s focus from what made him sad to being temporarily angry with him, then that made the world a less darker place.

 

“How did that led to _this_?” James wondered out loud, remembering that he was struggling to stop a sudden wedding when he heard the priest urging the newlyweds to kiss. “I object! This is a complete farce and I object!” He made to kick the double oh in front of him, but his legs felt like they had been stuck in wet cement and he felt sick to his stomach when he saw 009 and Q share their first kiss.

 

***

“Stop kissing him already!” He demanded, finally managing to free himself of all the things that restrained him, only to find himself groaning in pain by the side of his bed.

 

He was further confused by a sleepy Q peeking down from the bed, eyes unfocused. “Did you have another nightmare about Blofeld?” He asked softly and since James sat frozen on the ground and just stared at him as if he were a ghost, Q started to slowly reach out to him not to be seen as a threat. “You’re not in danger and I’m your safety,” he started to whisper, not fazed at all when James jumped up and pushed him down on the bed. “James, do you know who I am?”

 

“Yes, of course,” James breathed out as he ran his hands over Q’s flat belly, brows knitted in confusion. “You were pregnant not five minutes ago and then you wouldn’t let me see our child anymore because I break the things you create.”

 

Q sighed, rubbing the back of James’ neck. “Darling, I am a man, remember? I lack the equipment required to create, carry, and birth a child.” He started to gently massage James’ ear lobes by using his thumbs and index fingers. “Was that what your nightmare was about?”

 

Was that what it was? Q said it was a nightmare, but… No, that’s what it had to be. He trusted Q and the more seconds trickled by, he remembered more of _their_ lives – how he’d come back to Q and MI6 after Madeleine proved to be Number 2, how Q had let him crash on his sofa, how he’d brought him to his bed just after half a night to calm him down, but the image of Q holding a baby in his arms and then sharing a kiss with 009 was deeply burned in his retinas and mind.

 

“You married 009. 009! Any other double oh as long as it was me, I would have understood, but 009?”

 

That got Q to laugh. “He’s genuinely happily married to 002 and I have no control over what I do in your dreams, darling,” he pointed out, moving his fingers up to the middle of the outside of James’ ears and started to gently rotate his entire ears in circles, effectively turning him into content mush. “As for the first part of your nightmare… Had my gender been the only thing different between the two us and I’d become pregnant with your child, I would trust you from the very start.” There was a tinge of sadness in Q’s voice and it didn’t take James a single second to realize why. “We both have to get up in 3 hours, so let’s try to get a little bit more sleep, okay?”

 

James nodded, sliding a little bit off of Q as Q buried his nose in his hair. “I wouldn’t mind if we adopted,” James whispered after a few minutes, Q’s breath hitching. “More cats or actual children… Or both.”

 

“Both is good,” Q said quickly, hugging James tighter and kissing his forehead. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”


	2. I think I'm in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I have a thing for them in bed.

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

 

Q wished he could say that he had woken up to Bond spouting off something more ridiculous to that in his earpiece, but that was a complete lie. He struggled a few seconds to open his eyes, furiously rubbing them as he wondered why the hell his minions had let him fall asleep while he was running one of Bond’s missions and trying really hard to remember just what exactly the man was supposed to do.

 

“Someone will be with you in a second, agent, so try not to blow something up or get yourself killed in the meantime,” Q murmured, confused as to why his work station was warm and suddenly had a pulse.

 

Bond chuckled and Q did not remember when he upgraded the earwigs to be so good that he could feel the user’s warm breath wash over the side of his face. “You’re with me in my apartment right now, remember?” Bond asked in a whisper, carefully taking Q’s hand and placing it over his heart. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

Q scrunched up his face, bringing his other hand to Bond’s chest to make sure that it was really him. “’s fine,” Q continued to murmur. “Just remind me again why we’re in your apartment and why you don’t seem to have a shirt on and if I should make any sudden movements or if that will result in you bleeding to death.” Not that he minded Bond’s shirtless state.

 

“Have I ever told you how adorable you are when you’re half asleep and completely out of it?” Bond asked instead, because of course he had to be a pest even when they were sleeping to—oh. He remembered now.

 

A few months back, one of his scolding matches had ended in the two of them putting the sofa in Q’s office to good use and since that resulted in Bond actually being careful on his next mission so he’d be in a good condition to bugger him again and in Q actually falling asleep the second his head touched the pillow, they made a thing out of it. Eve entering his office without knocking while they were too busy ripping out their clothes to hear anyone coming in, so they both settled on taking their heated meetings to Bond’s apartment where no one would disturb them.

 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” They didn’t have actual rules for their little meetings since they never really _talked_ , but Q guessed that sleeping over was a huge blunder that could ruin what their had since Bond was supposedly deadly allergic to having relationships outside of the field. “Can you help me find my glasses and everything else? My eyes sting every time I try to open them.”

 

Bond clicked his tongue and wrapped his arms around Q’s middle, pulling him against his chest and slowly lying back down. “I wouldn’t let my worst enemy go out in the horrible storm that started not ten minutes ago, so why would I help you leave?”

 

Q frowned, unable to hear anything other than Bond’s heart beating. “Why is your heart beating so fast? All the MI6 doctors owe me favours, so none of them will say anything about why they were called here in the middle of the night—”

 

A pair of lips over his made him forget what he was talking about and he snuggled closer to James, humming and thinking. Their kisses were usually hungry and rough and he couldn’t think of a single instance in which he had his eyes closed because he was much too busy glaring back at Bond to silently tell him that he’d be damned if he just gave him control. But this kiss… Although only with a hint of tongue, it had been soft and relaxing and he would treasure it a lot more than the first time they did it.

 

“Before you go to sleep, I think you should know that I’m in love with you,” James said matter-of-factly and Q realized that it was this confession that had initially roused him from his sleep.

 

And now he found himself fully awake and even more aware of hard fast James’ heart was beating, straining his hearing to see if he could pick up on anything else other than their breathing and the storm that was raging outside. “Are we in danger and this is some sort of code? Because we really need to agree on a code before we start using one,” Q whispered as low as he could, sneaking his hand under James’ pillow where he knew he had the two guns that he had officially declared them as lost in the field.

 

Even in the almost complete darkness of the room, Q saw James’ face fall as he pulled his hand out from under the pillow and squeezed it. “If that was really happening, could we go back to our usual routine, and never speak of my confession?”

 

“No,” Q said simply, sitting up and trapping James under him – although, if he really wanted to free himself, all he had to do was roll slightly to the left or right and Q would fall off of him. “Look me in the eye and swear that this isn’t you practicing for your next mission.”

 

James gently cupped his face and touched their noses together. “I’m in love with you and I’m terrified of that,” he said without missing a beat or blinking.

 

“Why are you terrified?”

 

“Because you could die,” James breathed out, breaking eye contact. “Because no one I loved ever got a happily ever after. Because I stopped doing feelings a long time ago. Because you could not return my feelings and I just ruined a friendship, a nice work relationship, and a decent setup without really trying. Because—”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Q finished for him and pushed him down, kissing him deeply.


	3. Wait a minute. Are you jealous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least this time they aren't in bed.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Eve wasn’t even bothering to try to stop herself from laughing.

 

James narrowed his eyes. “Such allegations… Just how bored are you, Miss Moneypenny?”

 

Eve shrugged, tapping the mountain of papers on her desk with her pen, silently telling him that she really didn’t have the time for that. “Need I remind you that you came in my office and started to complain about MI6’s new power couple?”

 

“I’m not complaining; I’m simply imparting the careful observations I’ve managed to gather about the Quartermaster and his paramour that you might have missed due to the high work load M dumped on you,” James defended himself to no avail, doing his very best to avoid looking Eve in the eye.

 

“So what if you consider him to be too flirty outside of the field? Name me a single agent, double oh or simple, that doesn’t act like that.” James opened his mouth and then closed it, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Plus, Q seems happy to be with 005,” she said carefully after a few moments, not missing how tense James had become. “Isn’t that what’s important in the end?”

 

“He’s only momentarily happy,” James corrected her. “005 also doesn’t _notice_ important things and sooner rather than later, Q’s huge smile will dwindle down to a dissatisfied frown.”

 

“And you notice?” Eve challenged.

 

“Not all the time,” James admitted, lowering his head. He hadn’t noticed when Q looked at him with the same light in his eyes he now had only when 005 was in the room with him or that he was going out of his way to help him. He hadn’t noticed how disappointed and grief-stricken Q was whenever James waltzed out of somewhere with a nameless partner attached to his side and without so much as thanking him for all his hard work. “But I’ve always noticed when he was tired and sent a minion his way with a cup of tea or annoyed him until he went home. I even took him home when he was too tried to know that it was me and fed his bloody cats and made sure he had food and tea for the following day.”

 

“005 personally drives him home all the time when he’s in the country and at MI6 and I’m pretty sure that he brings Q breakfast in bed,” Eve pointed out and James gave her an exasperated look because the main difference between 005 and him driving Q home was the fact that James did it knowing that he wasn’t going to get to bugger him. “R says that Q is happy,” Eve insisted.

 

“Well, he wasn’t happy today,” James deadpanned, crossing his arms and legs. “As I was telling you before you rudely interrupted me, it’s been exactly a month since that twat of 005 and Q became a couple, but only Q remembered that.”

 

“And you,” Eve muttered, stamping James’ hand when he put in over the document she was just finishing up. “How do you know that 005 didn’t plan a surprise for Q and is just letting him _think_ he forgot about that?”

 

She only realized she issued James a challenge when she heard him clear his throat and she groaned, hitting her head against the table as he started to go over the list of why that was impossible and why 005 was a complete jerk.

 

Other than not noticing when Q was tired, driving him home only out of interest, forgetting their anniversary, not knowing the names of Q’s cats, not knowing how to make him his tea, and honestly hating Q’s cats for shedding all over his cheap suits, James also accused 005 of cheating. Not field cheating as he was still a double oh and that was to be expected on some missions, but of downtime cheating. He had it on good authority that the cocky bastard had at no less than three side pieces that all knew about Q and didn’t plan on ending it with them – and yes, that good authority was him and he didn’t think of it as stalking.

 

“Even though it is,” Eve interrupted him again, her newfound hatred burning a hole in his head. “And why didn’t you start your complaining with that? It’s much more important than the fact that he ignored the fact that Q wanted a burger. Actually, why are you telling me all of this instead of Q? Keeping this from him makes you as dishonourable as 005.”

 

James threw his hands in the air, letting out a frustrated growl. “I dropped hints! And not tiny hints like R did whenever it was just Q and I in the same room before that bloody twat came into his life!”

 

“Q doesn’t get hints that aren’t related to work, James, and if you knew him as well as you claimed, you would have known that.” She pushed the stack of papers to her left and grabbed James by his tie, tugging him closer. “You’ll end up hurting him more than 005 because even though he _finally_ moved on from you, he still sees you as a friend that he trusts with his life,” she hissed, not allowing James to look away. It was obvious now that James was trying to make her be the bearer of bad news, but that wasn’t going to happen. “See this through to the end and be there for Q. Prove to him that you’re worthy of the trust he’s given you.”

 

James hummed, easily extracting himself from her grasp. “It just crossed my mind that I could _make_ 005—”

 

“It’s Q’s right to deal with 005 as he sees fit since he’s the one who got cheated on,” Eve interrupted him, smacking him on the head with a stapler. “Plus, if 005 is as big of a rat as you make him out to be, he’ll drag you down with him and tell Q that you knew all about his cheating.”

 

James hated it when Eve was right – which was often – but not as much as he was going to hate how defeated and betrayed Q looked by the time they were done with their late night conversation.


	4. You heard me

“You heard me. Take. It. Off,” Bond’s voice came from inside Q’s office and if that wasn’t the biggest slap in his face, then he didn’t know what was. And in his office out of all places after everything he’d done for him despite the fact that he acted like a know-it-all jackass all the time!

 

Well, this is where he drew the line. He could put up with the agent blowing up expensive cars that weren’t his and that resulted in him being stuck in seemingly never ending budget meetings and he could understand his inability of returning in one piece even one of the gadgets that he laboured over for hours on end, but sex in his bloody office was beyond unacceptable and he was going to put an end to it this second.

 

“Not happening, Bond,” R’s voice also came from Q’s office and he felt his insides going numb.

 

“Take it off this instant,” Bond growled and Q’s mind kicked into action.

 

Since the last time he had almost been kidnapped, M and Bill Tanner had taken it upon themselves to make sure Q was better prepared. They found the best trainer that a government spy agency had – grumbled that she belonged to the KGB – forced him to actually attend her special classes, found the best shooting instructor they could – grumbled again that he was Mossad – forced him yet again to go to classes he didn’t want to, but relented in the type of weapon he got to carry.

 

He didn’t waste too much time thinking and kicked the door open, squeezing the trigger of his tranquilizing gun and embedding a dart right in Bond’s neck. The world came to a stop for a second as everyone realized what was happening and Bond was the first to say something as he slowly turned to look at him as he pulled the dart from his neck and his knees failed him.

 

“Q?” He asked as he crumbled to the floor, his eyes rolling in the back of his head and Q let out a sigh of relief because for all his training, he knew that he couldn’t take Bond down on his own.

 

And then he saw the great distance between Bond and R and the fact that not only was she right next to a table full of working weapons that she could have picked up and used at any time if she was truly in danger, but she was also wearing a navy blue suit jacket that was very obviously for a man alongside a colourful bowtie, platinum cufflinks, and a fancy watch that was Bond’s type. “Oh boy, he’s not going to like this when he wakes up,” she uttered and Q wanted the ground to open up and swallowed him right then and there.

 

“Well, wasn’t he—I mean, he was telling you to take off your—And I know he wouldn’t, but you never know what bad guys come up with nowadays, so I—” Q stammered and R looked more embarrassed and terrified with each word that came out of his mouth and he felt the need to tug all his hair out. “Oh, bugger, now I’ve done it and he’s never going to trust me again or let me live this down, the right bastard.” He kneeled by Bond’s side and put his head on his lap. “Well, get medical in here right now in the most discreet way possible.”

 

***

The first thing James saw when he woke up was a guilty looking Q. The first thing he heard was Q’s long apology followed by promises of exploding pens and improvements on his actual cars on top of the fact that he was more than willing to write twenty of his reports for him.

 

“You’re writing them for me,” James muttered and for a second, it looked like Q wanted to poke his eyes out for that before remembering something and forcing himself to laugh.

 

“Well, I’ll stop rigging all the stop lights to turn red the second it’s your turn to cross the intersection after I’m done writing them,” Q offered and James glared because he just _knew_ that London traffic couldn’t be that bad.

 

“I would much rather you not put me to sleep like some kind of animal the next time I try to stop R from stealing your things,” he said instead, grabbing Q’s arm to stop him from calling the nurse. “Did you see the bowtie?” He asked seriously.

 

Maybe a bit too seriously because he felt Q’s pulse pick up and his eyes widened not quite in fear, but pretty close to it, while very obviously wondering if he should be truthful with the deadly man he had deliberately shot not too long ago. “I did,” Q said carefully, now eyeing the door.

 

James huffed and turned to look at the ceiling, sliding his hand down Q’s arm until he was hanging on his fingers. “She ruined my surprise,” he grumbled. “Well, part of the surprise at least, but Medical isn’t exactly where I wanted to have this conversation.” He tugged Q closer and flashed him one of his usual disarming smiles. “I’m aware of the fact that I’m rubbish when it comes to taking care of the things you made for me, so I ordered a special kind of three piece suit for you alongside some accessories that Boothroyd was kind enough to alter for me into something you’d most definitely be interested in when I told him that they were meant to be an apology.”

 

Q leaned against James’s side and ran his free hand over his forehead. “I would much rather have my equipment and you back in one piece. But I will accept this gift if only because I’m curious what the Major did.”

 

“They’re your gifts so you can do whatever you want with them.” James tugged on Q again and almost pulled him over himself, their noses touching. “Will you accept the dinner invitation that was going to follow to see what the cooks did?”


	5. Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jock Bond and grade-skipper Q.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” the captain of the football team – a tall, blond, blue eyes boy named James Bond – said after he had tired himself out trying to break down the refrigerator door, proving that he’d be the perfect Captain Obvious.

 

“No, really?” Q asked sarcastically, trying his best not to look affected by the cold. “Wait, I have a better question… Did it physically hurt you to _think_ that we’re stuck ‘for a while’ in the room with such a thick iron door that it can easily rival a bank’s vault?”

 

“Would it kill you not to act like this towards the person who is trying to help you?” James asked, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing him with a glare.

 

Q snorted because it was Bond’s damned fault they were here in the first place. Well, Bond’s stereotypical team of jocks who thought it would be really funny if two of them distracted him by dangling his book bag above his head so three others could steal what he was working on, disassemble it in the most barbaric way possible and turn the precious parts into breadcrumbs that led him in this bloody trap.

 

“You do _not_ get to sit on your high horse and act like a knight in shining armour when this is the tip of a bloody iceberg that’s been growing for months right under your nose,” Q snapped at him, his attempt at a hard glare undermined by a sneeze attack – and probably also by the fact that he was a good two heads shorter than James.

 

Bond groaned, kicking the door one more time for good measure. “I told them to leave you alone countless times and I even promised to get the coach to bench them if they kept giving you a hard time.” He slid down next to Q, their elbows touching. “No one told me otherwise, so I really thought they listened to me.”

 

Ah, now that explained why things had suddenly gotten worse for him. “A surprisingly noble intention, I admit, but ultimately a horrible thing to do to someone who was supposed to be in their junior-year in high school,” Q said softly, shivering and fighting back a pout and the feeling of regret for snapping at someone who had tried to drag him out of the trap before it sprung. “It’s my fault for not keeping my head down and acting dumb, like my father told me to do—”

 

“No,” James interrupted him, suddenly looking very angrily at him. “Never apologize for being smart just because a bunch of uncoordinated monkeys are jealous of you.” He took his jacket off – one that his team mates had made just for him after winning a game that everyone thought they would lose because that's what the star athletes of the States wore, dyed in their team’s black and yellow colours and that had his name and number engraved – and draped it around Q’s shoulders before pulling him his closer, rubbing his back to keep his body temperature up. “This jacket will be a clear sign that you are really under my protection and since we don’t have any classes together other than the mandatory Latin and English Literature, I’ll keep a spot for you at my table if you ever want to have lunch together and know that the door to my room is always open for you should you feel the need to give me a list of everyone who’ll soon need a dentist.”

 

“The only reason why no one had to take me down from a flag pole up until now is because all the girls find me adorable, but if they see me walking around in your jacket…” Q trailed off and snorted. “And anyway, it’s kind of a bit too big for me so you’re getting this thing back as soon as that bloody door opens in ten minutes.”

 

James blinked. “Okay, one: why are you so sure that it will open in ten minutes? And two: you’ll grow in it and the girls will find you cuter.”

 

“This is when the cooks start getting ready for our lunch,” Q said matter-of-factly, holding his cracked phone to James’ face. “I’m also still not keeping your jacket; it smells like onions and the colours are too dull for me.”

 

James’ eye twitched.

 

***

Q ended up keeping the jacket, although he didn’t wear it at all for the rest of that year because it was really too big for him. But during summer break, he went through a growth spurt and, although it didn’t fit him perfectly because he didn’t have James’ muscle mass, it was certainly wearable.  

 

He also avoided sitting at James’ table for that first year, but James made sure to spend at least five minutes of their lunch talking with him and glaring back at everyone who looked funnily at his young friend. When the second year started – and the last member of his team member finished honestly apologizing for the way they had behaved – Q started to eat lunch with him once a week, ignoring his books either in favour of looking extremely confused whenever someone tried to explain what exactly was happening in a football match or in favour of confusing the table by explaining how something technologic worked and how he planned on improving it.

 

Third year came around and Q skipped to his final year – or course – while James awkwardly stumbled through a tutoring request. Q also started to attempt dating, although he declared that he was done with the whole thing after just one and he refused to talk about what had happened, throwing James’ jacket at his head and walking out in the middle of the tutoring session when James didn’t drop the subject – the girl was also tight-lipped, but she seemed to hate James since she loudly announced that she hoped he permanently broke his legs as well as every bone in if face during the next match.

 

Q didn’t talk with him for an entire week and James worried and fretted so much about how he was going to fix things between that he actually ran right into a goal post during a semi-important match. He got benched for two months until he fully recovered, but he was happy that he woke up in the University’s hospital wing with a jacket-wearing Q by his side – he grinned like an idiot throughout the scolding which resulted in the nurses and doctors giving him another CAT scan to make sure that his brain was okay.

 

Around the middle of Q’s final year there, James found out why his young friend had stopped dating – he was gay and he was terrified as well as very stupid because he was sure that James was going to treat him like he had the plague.

 

“You can’t get it from me because it’s not a disease,” Q had started to explain after coming out to James, putting a bag on the table. “I did have your jacket dry-cleaned though, just in case you don’t believe me, so—”

 

“So, do you like anyone in particular? And if you do, do they like you back?” James interrupted him, taking the jacket out of the bag and putting it back around Q’s shoulders, hoping that it was clear he didn’t  care about his sexual preferences – although he did strangely feel at ease know that Q was interested in men.

 

Snuggling in James’ jacket and visibly looking more relaxed, Q’s face turned a light shade of pink. “I do, they don’t know, and I’m not telling you who it is, so let’s just focus on you passing Latin.”

 

James frowned, leaning on the book so Q couldn’t open. “No, no, you’re not getting out of this so easily, Q. I want to know who he is, how old he is, his dating history, if he’s worthy of you, and if he’s interested or if he needs a good talking to.”

 

“No, you need to know Latin,” Q corrected him, trying to pull the book out from under him.

 

“What does he look like? What year is he in?” James continued to ask, ignoring Q’s struggles.

 

“James—”

 

“Oh, he’s a teacher, isn’t he?”

 

“No! Ew! They all look like they’re five minutes away from a heart attack,” Q exploded, actually looking disgusted. “James, focus, or else they’ll have someone else tutoring you!”

 

“Alright, fine,” James grumbled, letting Q have the book and crossing his arms over his chest. “But know that I will find out who stole your heart by the end of this year.” And break every bone in his body if needed. “Quod ego promitto vobis.”

 

Q looked proud of James and James beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quod ego promitto vobis - That I promise you


	6. Kiss Me

“Kiss me.” A command in a posh voice that James Bond was more than happy to follow even though it didn’t come from one of his supervisors – or rather, _because_ it didn’t come from any of those stuffy suits. “Do it before I change my mind,” the man warned him and James rushed to catch the sweet, plump, red lips that became his latest obsession that was named Q.

 

Or rather, whose nickname was Q. James didn’t know his real name and he was pretty sure that if he dared to ask him for it, he’d end up being not only blacklisted, but also forced to have a long and boring discussion with the MI6 psychiatrist until everyone was sure that he understood what boundaries were and that he was just using a special, unofficial service that had been set up to help double oh agents unwind after mission.

 

That’s right: Q was a male escort and the legendary James Bond, the man who got women naked, on their backs, and ready to spill every secret he needed in order to complete his mission without actually trying, was his loyal customer.

 

James had been against the idea at first, marching in M’s office with an army of lawyers, ready to destroy the agency from the inside and punishing everyone who was willingly taking part in this disgusting practice, needing an entire month of explaining, law studying, and meeting with other double oh agents as well as other escorts – happy escorts; escorts that were doing this out of their own free will and for their own enjoyment, not because they were forced in any way – to convince him to put his metaphorical pitchfork and torch away.

 

It took a bit longer – and a deep wound that landed him off the roster for two months and in need of semi-constant attention – until he finally decided to give the service a try and although he randomly picked a name despite everyone telling him to read the blurbs under each nicknames, he knew that he made the right choice the second his eyes landed on the thin man dressed in what had to be the tightest suit in history with wild, brown hair and beautiful green eyes.

 

“I must be losing my touch because you’re far, far away,” Q muttered, gently tapping James’ forehead, chuckling when James wrapped him in his arms and pulled him in his lap. “Or are you getting sneakier?”

 

James hummed, trailing little kisses down his neck. “I am a spy after—”

 

Q covered his mouth, actually looking upset. “You’re a Universal Exports representative, understand?”

 

Unofficially, everybody offering their companionship to the agents knew what they really were, but it was an unspoken agreement that they needed to pretend that they didn’t – at least that was what Eve Moneypenny told him and that was how Q acted and since James never wanted anyone else other him, he assumed that true.

 

“What if I’m a Universal Exports representative that’s into role-playing?” James tried, slipping his hands under Q’s shirt.

 

Q tisked and slid off of James’ lap, slapping his hands away before he could either cup his backside or find wrap them back around his middle. “That’s a deal breaker, Mister Bond, which means that it’s also my cue to slip away.” He threw James’ short back at his head, having no problem being naked while searching for his clothes.

 

James, however, had a hard time not jumping him. “You’re a bloody tease, you know that?”

 

Q stopped what he was doing and tilted his head to the left, knitting his brows in confusion as he started to nibble on his thumb. “Am I?”

 

“Yes,” James breathed out, crossing his legs.

 

“Well, then why don’t you do something about it?”  Q asked, grinning and opening his arms just in time for James to wrap himself around him, lips already on his neck. “The next hour will be on me since you are packed and ready to leave for a few weeks.”

 

The next hour ended up being two hours and although James thought that he had been sneaky when he transferred more than needed into Q’s account for everything, his payment bounced right back to him alongside a text message that berated him for what he had done alongside a promise that he would pay in another way the next time they saw each other.

 

James got distracted from thinking exactly _how_ the whole sum of money was returned to him without suffering a tax cut or how he wasn’t presented with a bank charge at the end of the month because Vesper Lynd entered his life and stole his heart and mind and, like a fool, he really did think that after he’d be done with Le Chiffre, he’d finally have his happy ending.

 

He’d lived his illusion for four months before his world came crashing down around him and the traitorous Vesper drowned herself and by the time he was done taking his revenge just a month later, he remembered the one person he knew he could fully entrust with his body and affections even if MI6 had him on their payroll and asked for Q as soon as all the tubes and wires were removed and Medical allowed him to stay awake for more than five minutes at a time.

 

In hindsight, James should have been tipped off that something was wrong by the fact that a grave looking Eve pretty much teleported herself next to his bed as soon as he had sent his request.

 

“Q will not be coming,” she said awkwardly and, naturally, James thought it was because he was still in Medical.

 

“I guarantee you that I’ll be out of here in the next ten minutes, so have the service take Q to my apartment and have him order whatever he wants to eat from his favourite restaurant,” James said simply, pushing the button to call the nurse. “Have him bring either a bag with clothes for a week or just a list of the things he wants.”

 

Eve gently placed her hands on top of James’ and looked at him like he was a wounded puppy. “Q is no longer with the company.” Her voice echoed in James head, every other noise being drowned out. But she still carried on talking, obviously trying to fix things and make James feel better. “However, they do have five others that not only look similarly to him, but they also—”

 

“Actually, I think honest bed rest would do me better,” James interrupted her, not quite understanding why he found a way to feel even hollower than before. “And maybe it would be for the best for me if I just stick with interacting with people that I know,” he continued before Eve could say anything else, turning with his back at her to make sure that she got the point and left him alone.

 

He allowed himself to feel miserable for the first few days when he was alone, but he soon reminded himself who he was and what he did and made sure to lock everything deeply inside of him, acting like nothing was wrong when he was visited by his closest friends and the co-workers he could tolerate for more than a minute outside of a mission. Not that anyone fell for his act, Eve tricking him into going to a psychiatrist once a week for the following two months with M’s blessing, James surprising everyone by actually being permitted to return to active duty before the end of the year.

 

And just in time for MI6 to suffer a huge blow and be in need of a saviour.

 

“So I’m not the only trouble magnet that roams these halls,” James said with obvious amusement in his voice as he waltzed in M’s temporary office within MI5, in his best suit and obviously itching from some action.

 

“Sins of the past and all that,” M muttered, looking and feeling like the old woman she was just for a faction of a moment before her eyes returned to their natural steely state. “You’re annoying teasing aside, Bond, thanks to the explosion Boothroyd is no longer Quartermaster as he has been taken out of commission. We have also lost fifteen low tier boffins and 5 normal agents. Worse still, 004 is dead and 009 is in a coma and the hard drive with the names and fake identities of all of our agents that are currently in deep undercover has been lost to us.”

 

That was a lot information to process in one go, but M was never the one to beat around the bush – especially in such a dire situation – and James was enough of a seasoned not to need a moment when he someone told him that someone who he had worked with on many missions had just died.

 

“Who is my target?”

 

M pushed a file towards him, cracking her knuckles. “The man who stole the hard drive is a mercenary by name of Patrice. As he is a mercenary…”

 

“It is my job to take him out only _after_ we find out who his employer is,” James finished for M, committing the man’s face to his memory. “Do we have a Quartermaster, or will I need to interact with scared boffins?”

 

“Of course we have a new Quartermaster,” M snapped, pouring herself a glass of what looked like scotch. “And, Bond? You will treat him with respect or you will answer directly to me, understand?”

 

Assuming that M was asking him to give the new Quartermaster time to adjust to his new position and his new responsibilities before he could start teasing him and playing with whatever equipment he had lying around him because the older-than-Boothroyd-R took the position, James left for the museum where their first meeting was supposed to take place feeling confident that he was in good hands.

 

That all changed when he found out that it wasn’t coincidence that he bumped into rent boy Q dressed in a baggy, cheap suit that was still seen despite the even cheaper parka he had thrown over and his beautiful green eyes hidden under thick glasses at the museum, but because he was his new Quartermaster. New _stingy_ Quartermaster, if he were to go by the little gun and radio that he was presented with.

 

“Not exactly Christmas, is it?” James grumbled, trying his best not to ask _how_ Q ended up as the Quartermaster, especially since nothing in the younger man’s face gave away the fact that he remembered him – hurtful, a part of his mind whispered every now and then, but understandable from more points of view his cold, logical side reminded him.

 

Q hummed, eyes still trained on the painting before them. “I wouldn’t scuff at a fingerprint activated gun and a radio that can be turned into an very powerful explosive when needed or a Wi-Fi hotspot given that I was forced to work at a tiny little desk in MI5 because the three floors that were dedicated to my department back at MI6 no longer exist.” Q’s posh accent couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s and James was surprised to realize that Q hadn’t been faking it. “Of course, if you don’t think you can do your job properly with what I – your Quartermaster – gave you, I will ask M for assign another—”

 

“I’m the seasoned one from the two of us—”

 

“As if age is a guarantee of efficiency,” Q said without missing a bit and with just a tiny roll of his eyes.

 

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation,” James shot right back because he wasn’t to get his ass handed to him to a newbie, but still feeling that he had lost the verbal battle because he had raised his voice slightly and his breathing was just a bit ragged. Still, he was stubborn and he didn’t know when to quit. “Look, why don’t you go back to being a civilian and let the real Quartermasters handle actual missions?”

 

“I am an actual Quartermaster. _Your_ Quartermaster,” Q said simply, putting an envelope inside James’ jacket. “And you’ll be the dutiful agent who will contact me the second he lands and who won’t lose any of the equipment he just received while doing his job or risk being my lapdog for the indefinite future.” He patted James’ chest and then shuffled to the next picture, blocking James’ from talking back to him by instantly engaging a young woman into an actual conversation about the brushstrokes and the real theme of the painting.

 

Well, Q was free to chat up whoever he wanted and ignore him completely because James didn’t need his help with anything. And when he was going to prove that to the upper-management, he was going to have the young man reassigned somewhere in the back of the Q branch until he matured and got his first tuff of white hair and actually grew a beard like a real man. Except – to no one’s shock – that wasn’t exactly how things went.

 

He got discovered the second he landed which forced him to switch from the nice, five-star hotel that Q had gotten him to an unofficial safe house behind a bar in the bad part of town which cost him all of allowance. Next thing that disappeared was his multi-purpose radio that he had to blow up to free himself from the warehouse he was dragged to in the middle of the house and when he did finally managed to sneak in the casino where his target was, his waiter cover was blown in less than five minutes and he found himself wrestling a very angry komodo dragon that had quite an appetite for fingerprint codded guns.

 

Realizing that he was never going to hear the end of it even if he died, James mustered enough strength to pick up the giant lizard and hurl it at his laughing target. Unfortunately, his luck streak only lasted for like five minutes, ending the second the dragon chomped down on his target’s neck, killing him and bringing his mission to an abrupt end.

 

“Bollocks,” James muttered, quickly retreating and losing himself in the terrified crowd that was scrambled towards the nearest exit, narrowly avoid getting arrested.

 

Tired, wounded, defeated, and unable to find in himself enough strength to care about what tomorrow would bring, James half-assed his would cleaning and just went to sleep in the very uncomfortable cot, finally not bothered by how noisy the bar upfront was or by the horrible smell that seemed to be permanently stuck in every nail and board of the room. That is why his senses were kicked into overdrive when he woke up in an actual bed and in a room that smelled _clean_ and he blinding kicked eft and right at whoever was trying to push him back down in his soft prison.

 

“Focus on my voice and on my warmth before you hurt me, you daft man,” the order came in a familiar posh voice and James went slack in Q’s arms, forgetting for a moment everything that had happened. “Good, good… Now take deep breaths and tell me how the bloody hell is it possible for you to screw up so badly and so fast?”

 

“It’s a gift,” James murmured, groaning, recognizing that he was in Saint Bart by the view outside his room. “How did you get me back in London so fast?”

 

Plopping himself down in the chair that was next to the bed and crossing his arms over his chest, Q fixed James with the hard stare he usually used whenever he was informed that he only had coffee in the house. “You were out for five days because it slipped your mind that komodo dragons are pretty much walking germ banks, so it really wasn’t that hard when you get three Medical departments from different spy agencies involved.”

 

A nurse walked in and, after checking to make sure that James’ stitches were still holding and that he was okay otherwise – as well as sticking a syringe in him in what had to be the most painful way possible – helped him sit up right before putting a tray with a stack of paper and three pens in front of him.

 

“You want me to write you in my will for doing your job?” James asked, arching his eyebrow at the still glaring Q.

 

“No, I want you to write a report that explains how you failed doing yours even though I had your mission perfectly mapped out for you,” Q said simply.

 

James scoffed and pushed the tray away. “All you did was give me a gun and a radio.”

 

“And told you to contact me the second—” Q broke off and took a deep breath, dusting his multi-coloured, lose cardigan. “As the mission was completed by 006 because he can follow instructions properly and M told me that I should go easy on you given that you almost died on my blind watch, you have by the time you leave this hospital to finish that report or I will have you benched until you do it.”

 

Just to spite him, James pretended to go to sleep and Q did the sensible thing and left him to gloat alone – which he did for an entire minute before deciding that feeling miserable and silently wallowing in self-pity was much better. The nurses and doctors weren’t making feel any better with the glares they were giving him and then the ultimate punch in what was left of his soul came from Eve when she visited him on his last day at the hospital.

 

“Write that bloody report,” she said in lieu of greeting him, dumping a heavy pack of papers on his lap and narrowly avoiding getting him in both his eyes with pens. “Write in in your best cursive writing and don’t you dare be sarcastic in it.”

 

“Happy to see you too, Miss Moneypenny,” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know you got demoted to the temporary Quartermaster’s secretary.”

 

“Why do you think that being the secretary of a man who doesn’t even blink when he fights for a proper budget for his department with the higher-ups who call him the crass version of a prostitute to his face and who dragged your ass back home from the claws of the Chinese secret service, taking down two double agents that were an inch away from slicing your neck in your drug induced sleep without the help of anyone would be an insult?”

 

Something stirred inside James. “Who is doing what now to Q?”

 

Eve flicked his nose. “Not on what you’re supposed to be concentrating, Bond. But do him a solid after landing him in front of a disciplinary for forcing him to abandon his post while on probation and for proving that he can’t control the most dangerous agent like he’s promised before being hired on as a boffin, and write the bloody report.”

 

James didn’t even bother to pretend to grumble as he started to write his report, promising himself that it will be the best thing he ever wrote, even if he was going to smear his own name to make sure Q remained in the position he more than deserved.

 

“I’ll send Q over to pick up the report in one hour,” Eve whispered, placing a bag at the foot of the bed. “Fresh clothes and your favourite razor, just in case you want to look decent for the man who saved your life while you apologize for treating him like dirt.”

 

As if a simple _spoken_ apology would be enough.

 


	7. I got you a present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous chapter.

“I got you a present.” The kick he got in his stomach as Q jumped a few feet back while pulling out a taser stick from somewhere inside his jacket got him thinking that maybe he should stop sneaking up on people that he wasn’t supposed to, even if they were basically civilians. “It’s James,” he wheezed out, trying to regain his senses.

 

“I can see that,” Q hissed, hand over his chest.

 

“You should be careful with that,” James murmured, pointing at the stick that still looked like it had electricity coursing through it. “I think you’ve had enough shocks for one day.”

 

“No, really?” Q asked sarcastically, deactivating his baton and hiding it back inside his jacket. “What do you want, Bond? You just finished a mission, so you couldn’t be here to steal any more equipment.”

 

Ever since he poked his nose in reports to see exactly what happened and who did what after their first mission together, James had come to accept that Q was a damned good Quartermaster. But their past together or the fact that Q was the youngest Quartermaster in history didn’t mean that James treated him any differently than he had Boothroyd. But what he had failed to realize right away was that Q was not like Boothroyd and that every time James did himself – as the saying were – Q took it as a metaphorical slap to the face and a silent declaration of his distrust and doubt of his abilities which meant that he threw himself in his work with even more pathos and determination than before, resulting in overworking himself.

 

“I got you a present,” James repeated himself, holding the gift bag out to Q. “It’s not something extravagant or something that could be labelled as a bribe, so don’t worry,” he added when he noticed Q’s frown.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you deserve it,” James said honestly, pushing the back in Q’s arms before slipping his arm around his middle.

 

Still confused, Q let himself be guided out of the hallway. “Of that I am more than aware as is everyone that worked with me, but why are _you_ giving me this?” He dug his heels in the ground inches away from the elevator. “What did you do, Bond, and what do I have to sacrifice now to get you out of trouble? I’m still on probation after your last stunt.”

 

James frowned. “News to me, but I’ll talk with M—”

 

“Don’t make things harder for me than they already are,” Q intervened and James’ hatred for the old crone multiplied.

 

“Then I won’t be talking to M, just glare at her—”

 

“It’s not M,” Q hissed, placing his hands on his hips. “Just drop the act, Bond, and tell me what you want already. It’s late, I’m tired, and—”

 

“I want to apologize, alright?” James snapped, pushing Q in the elevator and glaring at the lone pencil pusher that looked like he wanted to join them until he understood that it was in his best interest if he waited for another elevator. “Look, I’m aware that your life in your new position can’t be that easy given your age and everything and that my behaviour only made things harder for you, so can you just let me give you this gift?”

 

“Fine,” Q grumbled, finally peeking into the bag and gasping, his eyes finally reverting to the warmness they’ve always held. “James,” the name slipped him without him realizing it and James was trying his best not to outright beam at Q for it, “I really can’t accept this without having to fill in some paperwork no matter how much of a jackass you are.”

 

“Well, if paperwork is needed for a few tins of tea and a cardigan dropped multiple times in cans of paint,” not to mention the very expensive watch that was hidden in the cardigan which will probably make Q cuss him out when he did finally found it, “why not throw in a late night dinner at a really nice restaurant in the old part of London?” The idea just came to him out of nowhere, but he was pretty sure that he’d still get the best seats in the house because he was one of their best patrons.

 

Q snorted just as the elevator reached the parking lot. “And deal with even more accusations of favouritisms? Thanks, but no thanks.” He pushed his hand against James’ mouth, completely unaware of how tempted James to start kissing his palm. “And before you start ranting that I’m thin and that you’re afraid the next strong wind will blow me over just like 009 did two nights ago,” that man was dead and James already knew where on his wall he will hang his balls, “I will remind you that you know very well that I actually have muscles under these baggy clothes.”

 

James froze and not just because Q looked as relaxed as James had ever seen him in months as he was making silly faces while flexing his muscles. “This is the first time you made a reference to the two of us knowing each other before the museum.”

 

Q reverted back to his serious persona, coughing to hide his embarrassment. “I do apologize for that, Bond. I was made aware that it would be a very bad idea to act anything like a true boffin given my past—”

 

“Bullocks,” James breathed out before he could stop himself, his arm once again around Q’s middle and gently directing him towards his car. “All of us here played the role of a rent boy or a call girl at one point in our careers.” He opened the door for Q and waited for him to slide in the car of his own free will – sighing in relief when he did that – and then quickly ran to the other side so he could slide in. “I mean, just last week you were trying your best not to laugh while I was hitting on that woman.”

 

“Your lines were _really_ awful,” Q said, chuckling as he buckled in. “I’m surprised she didn’t taser you were you stood.”

 

“Hey, she took me back to her apartment in the end, didn’t see? Which allowed me to grab the key card needed to get to the files to complete the mission and isn’t that what counts in the end?” James defended himself, starting up the car.

 

Q gave him a sad look and patted his knee, missing that James’ hold on the steering wheel tightened. “Darling, you not only helped me pay off my mortgage for the crappy studio apartment I had on the outskirts of London, you also provided me with enough money to make a down payment on my current apartment.” This time, James’ reaction was too obvious for Q to miss, the way his breath hitch making Q instantly realize what he had said and what he was doing. “I didn’t mean—”

 

“We’re both off duty and no one was around to hear you say that, so no need to fret about any extra paperwork you might need to fill in for that little tongue slip,” James quickly cut him off, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Plus… I kind of missed hearing you call me that,” he admitted, confused by how hard his heart was beating.

 

Freeing his hand so he could entwine their fingers together, Q’s eyes regained that mischievous sparkle that James absolutely adored. “Truth be told, there are quite a lot of things I missed from you.”

 

“Such as?”

 

All the cars honking behind them could go to hell because Q was leaning so close to him now that he could determine the brand of tea he had that day, his lips almost brushing against his own. “Bring my equipment and yourself back in one piece every once in a while and I might consider telling or even showing you.”

 

No matter the nature of their relationship, Q was always going to remain that supreme tease that he’d grown to love without knowing.


	8. Is there a reason why you’re naked in my bed?

“Is there a reason why you’re naked in my bed?”

 

“Is there a reason why you aren’t even though it’s almost 4 in the morning?” James countered, flashing Q one of his usual disarming smiles.

 

Q’s lips twitched, but he managed to suppress the urge to smile back. “Are you asking me why I’m in my apartment after the silent alarms went off to notify me of an intruder instead of buck naked in your bed?”

 

“You do love semantics.”

 

“Yes, a bit more than you love being alive apparently,” Q said offhandedly, making no attempt to hide the fact that he pocketing his weapon as he ducked his head out of the room to whisper something at the army of MI5 and MI6 agents that had followed the Quartermaster home – and yet, they all allowed him, one of the most important people that MI6 had, to enter a room with a possible attacker first, tisk. “I thought you rode off into the sunset with your fair maiden.”

 

James pulled the covers off himself to show Q his battered and bruised body. “Bumped into a dragon on my happy ending and decided that I had the wrong maiden.”

 

Q disappeared without saying anything into the attached bathroom for a moment, returning with a large first aid kit, James scooting over to make room for his temporary unofficial doctor. “Do we need to go after Miss Swann as well?” Q asked, carefully cleaning James’ wounds.

 

“She’s still an innocent in all of this who didn’t like how I live my life and who couldn’t handle my affinity for guns and danger,” James said after a moment, his fingers finding their way in Q’s messy hair. “How do you manage to keep it so soft?”

 

“Really expensive conditioner that works wonders when you fall asleep in the tub with it in your hair for two hours,” Q replied automatically, frowning at a wound that refused to stop bleeding. “We have number 2 to 9 of Blofeld’s organization under close watch and we already rounded up some of the minor workers and foot soldiers; do you know who might have come after you?”

 

James shrugged. “They were less chatty than usual, but they had Spectre rings which I brought back for you to work your magic on.” His breath hitched when Q’s needle penetrated his skin. “Do I really need stitches?”

 

“About ten of them on just this wound alone. Now be a good agent and act your own age while I work on you,” Q instructed, fully emerged in what he was doing and not bothered in the least by the fact that James had snuck his other hand in his hair and was now gently scratching his scalp in a semi-massage – but he was more than happy for that as it seemed to keep the incoming stress-induced headache at bay. “Anything on your back that I need to take care of?” Q asked, trying to hide that his hands were trembling now that he was done stitching James’ up – he always hated this part of their relationship, but treasured it at the same time since it showed just how much he was being trusted.

 

“I’ve learned by now not to show anyone my back,” James muttered, abandoning his light head massage in favour of squeezing Q’s hands. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

 

“Probably bleed to death in someone else’s bed,” Q said and made to get up only to be tugged back close to James. “You’re tired, confused, and probably under the influence of a lot of under the counter painkillers.”

 

James hummed, their noses almost touching. “And yet I feel like I’ve never been as sober and aware of myself and my feelings as I am right now.”

 

“Bond—”

 

“A moment of weakness on my end due to the drugs for which I apologize,” James interrupted Q, brushing his lower lip with his thumb before releasing him and scooting further away from him. “I’ll be out of your luscious hair in a few hours; I just need to rest a bit.”

 

Q leaned close to him again and flicked his nose. “You’ll stay at least until breakfast and confess then if your feelings are still the same. Now carefully roll over because I need to change the sheets.” He tried not to be affected by the flash of hope in James’ eyes, but he was a weak man so before he dashed back into the bathroom like a frightened rabbit, he brushed his lips against James’ cheek.

 

“They’ll be the same if not more intense,” James called out, unaware that he was mirroring Q’s smile.


	9. It could be worse

“It could be worse.”

 

James’ turned his glare to Eve. “How?”

 

Eve shrugged. “Well, for once, he could be dead.” James flinched and turned his attention back to his glass of Scotch whisky. “He could also be in a coma, kidnapped, tortured, suffering from an incurable disease that could slowly and very painfully kill—”

 

“Enough,” James snapped, resting a hand on his stomach in hopes of getting it to stop turning as he fought off those horrible images that Eve put in his mind.

 

“You started it,” Eve grumbled. “Why are you even bothered about any of this anyway? He invited you and put you at the ‘good’ table, so what’s got your knickers in such a twist?”

 

A very good question for which James didn’t really have an acceptable answer – but, by God, he wouldn’t give Eve the opportunity to gloat over his confused feelings. “Something feels off,” he said after a moment’s hesitation, ignoring the way Eve’s eyebrow arched as she tilted her head forward, signalling him to continue talking until he made sense. “My gut instinct tells me not to trust anything that’s happening right now.”

 

Eve snorted. “The same gut instinct that told you it was a great idea to run away with Vesper before letting us do a proper background check—”

 

“I assumed you did it since you partnered me up with her for a very important mission,” James interrupted, grabbing the bottle from the much too slow bartender to pour himself a proper glass.

 

“She wasn’t compromised— No, we’re focusing on how crap your gut instinct his,” Eve stopped herself before she could really start.

 

“My gut instinct revealed Spectre,” James countered.

 

“It was M’s video that did that,” Eve pointed out, grabbing the half-empty bottle from James’ hands. “Stop that! You’re supposed to get drunk tomorrow with Q and the other guys, not today for no bloody reason other than your ego being wounded.”

 

“It’s not because of my ego,” James growled, almost falling off the chair when he tried to get his bottle back, huffing when Eve tisked at him and wiggled her perfectly manicured finger way to close to his face for his liking. “I really think Q’s rushing and I couldn’t care less for that future of husband of his even if everyone’s lives depended on it.”

 

Eve let out a long, suffering sigh. James had been acting like an immature child ever since he got Q’s wedding invitation a month ago, stomping his way back to London from his self-imposed exile on a tropical island to demand to be introduced to the backstabbing bastard that was going to kill their Quartermaster the second their wedding was over – to say that James Bond was a drama queen was an understatement. But even though he had just heard his future husband getting insulted, Q still greeted the wayward agent with open arms, taking an early lunch to coach his husband-to-be how to deal with James while the overgrown man child was being checked over by Medical.

 

That first meeting – in Eve’s honest opinion – was a complete disaster. From what she heard, James had interrogated the poor man, growling at him every time he either took too long to answer because he had been asked something in the middle of swallowing his food or his drink or given a wrong answer about what Q liked. Half an hour in, Q’s future husband was ready to take everything outside with James promising to end him in two moves and poor Q literally stuck between the two of them, threatening to demote James to a janitorial position for the rest of his life and promising his lover that he would call off the wedding of both of them didn’t stop embarrassing him right that moment.

 

The MI5 agents that had been tasked with Q’s security went on to report that James stormed out of the restaurant and that Q and his partner continued arguing with each other all the way back to their newly bought apartment because the lover didn’t feel that Q stood up for him too much and simply let James wail on him.

 

Now an argument between two lovers wasn’t the end of the world if no punches were thrown and no weapons were used – and Q wasn’t in an abusive relationship – but when James _somehow_ learned of what happened, it was the end of the world for him.

 

Before anyone could really stop him, he had made his way to the apartment and because Q was an extreme softie when it came to some agents who tended to always make their way back to him whenever they were seriously hurt and built the security system with that in mind, James pretty much walked right through the door and right into the unfortunate man’s personal space.

 

By the time the security team realized that they needed to step in because the double oh agent was an intruder, they found the two men sitting on opposite sides of the sofa – James holding a steak to his right eye while Q’s lover was holding a bag of ice to his mouth – with Q towering over the two of them from the front of the sofa and ripping them a new one for the way both of them had acted.

 

Both men had apologized to one another and since then, every time James and he met, the conversations were short and civil, but James made it clear to everyone – except for Q – that he despised that man with every fibre in his being and he was rooting for the two of them to split up. But it was clear to anyone that it wasn’t going to happen so in an attempt to avoid any wedding day drama, everyone appointed Eve to have the sobering talk with James two days before the big event and the woman regretted that she wasn’t getting paid anything because she couldn’t complain about not being paid enough for dealing with the man-child that James was when in strong denial.

 

“James, Q has known the man since middle school,” Eve said for the third time in the last hour, grabbing James’ arm to keep him from turning away from her. “No, you will listen to me and you will force every little brain cell you have to understanding that no one is rushing anywhere.”

 

“But—”

 

“Q is in love.” Eve pulled no punches, even when dealing with one of her best friends. “And it is very obviously that he’s loved back. That man pretty much worships the ground Q walks on and looks at him as if he were a god. Do not be a jackass and ruin things for him just because you’re afraid Q’s going to forget about you and the rest of the world.”

 

James harrumphed and lowered his head. “But _I_ love Q and he will never love me if that arse marries him.”

 

His words had been so soft that Eve couldn’t trust her ears. “What?”

 

“I love him,” James repeated himself without missing a beat. “I thought it was obvious – not to him because this is Q we’re talking about, but at least to everyone else that knows me.” He didn’t bother hiding the fact that he was disappointed in Eve not picking up on that.

 

“We all just thought you wanted to boff the head boffin,” Eve said incredulously, now taking a big gulp of the bottle herself. “Are you sure you’re in love with him and you don’t just _think_ you are because he’s the one that got away?”

 

James scrunched up his face because he couldn’t understand what he had ever done to Eve for her to insult him in such a way. “I never dragged him on my unofficial missions even though he always found a way to show up when I needed him the most—”

 

“That’s because you stole his equipment and left behind things to mock him for—”

 

“Hey, those were gifts to thank him for all his hard work,” James snapped. “Did I ever leave anything behind when stole things from the Major?” Eve thought for a moment and then slowly shook her head. “Anyway, I also brought him his favourite food in my downtime because he always forgets to eat and I know how to make his tea, things which I never bother with when I simply want to shag someone.”

 

Eve shrugged. “To be fair, you did those things when Q was really upset with you, so you can’t really blame anyone for thinking you were simply trying to get whatever ban he imposed on you lifted instead of suddenly realizing that you were in love.”

 

“I never locked him out of our shared hotel rooms to sleep with strangers,” James continued, a huge smile spreading on his lips as he remembered in just how a wired position Q slept with and that his snoring sounded more like a cat’s purr than anything. “I also always made sure the separate beds were both comfortable.”

 

“Again, everybody thought it was because you knew he could hold a grudge, so you simply went to that other person’s room. And were we wrong to give you credit for keeping the man who pretty much held your life in his hands from getting the rest he needed?”

 

Now James was really starting to get annoyed. “I bought food for his cats, I forced him to go home whenever I caught him forgetting to stop working, I cooked him chicken soup every time he was sick, I volunteered to help him with equipment everyone else was too scared to test it, I partnered up with him during all those tedious team buildings Tanner insisted we go on to make sure he got a perfect score, I helped him learn self-defence, I helped him improve his shooting, I know when his birthday is, I _always_ got him for that stupid Secret Santa even you insist on having every year, I helped him sneak out of all those useless events he was forced to attend in order to rub elbows with the stuffy upper-management, I—”

 

“Okay, okay, you love him,” Eve intervened before James devolved into a shouting drunk that no one really understood. “But he’s still getting married in two days to the man who was upfront with him about his feelings and who he loves back.”

 

“I know, which is why I’m miserable now so that I can act uncaring when I lose whatever small chance I might have had after disappearing with Miss Swann,” James whispered as he plopped back down in his chair and rested his head on his arms, both depressed man and confused and helpless woman missing Q’s future husband sitting frozen two tables away from them, trying to digest everything he had accidentally heard.


	10. Have you lost your damn mind?!

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Q exploded and everyone within hearing range suddenly remembered that they very important things to do out of his sight.

 

Everyone except the bane of Q’s existence and the cause for his newest breakdown – who went by the name of James Bond – of course. “I have the papers that prove I haven’t right here,” he chimed in with a smug smile on his face, making Q’s headache get worse and his right eye twitch, long, elegant fingers curling into tight fists when actual papers were placed before him.

 

“Yes, well, those papers are completely wrong if they state the opposite,” Q said in a much lower tone, not needing to check the little flashing window on his personal laptop to know that it was either Bill Tanner or Eve Moneypenny – the Chief of Staff and M’s personal secretary respectively – asking him not to deafen their best agent just before he was set to go on an important mission.

 

“But they aren’t,” James replied calmly, sitting back in the chair and folding his arms over his crossed legs. “And anyway, I don’t see why my suggestion would imply otherwise.”

 

Q spluttered. “Because I have never heard anything as ridiculous as that in my entire life.”

 

“You’re just showing the green behind your ears by saying that and making this mission more complicated than it needs to be.” If there was anything mire infuriating than a James Bond pulling your leg, than that was a James Bond having a point and knowing it. “Or prove me wrong and come up with a better plan.”

 

“Take Cedric with you,” Q muttered after a moment, booting up a special program. “I’ll prepare a kit for him in less than an hour.”

 

“Cedric’s not the Quartermaster.”

 

“You don’t need the Quartermaster for this,” Q insisted, deleting the password he had typed wrongly and trying again. “He’s a good hacker, a good shooter, and he has proven many times that he can not only put up with you, but also handle you.”

 

James hummed, slowly shaking his head. “The budget as well as the three bullet-ridden cars you have hidden away on the last floor of your realm suggest otherwise. And, again, why give yourself more work when the papers for the two of us already exist?”

 

“I do not really mind working,” Q insisted. “In fact, I trust more the papers I forge myself rather than the ones I’m presented with, especially after that whole incident with 009 and yourself.”

 

“Then redo _our_ papers if working is another one of your hobbies – the only one which we wouldn’t have in common so far and yes, I do count your fascination with giant robots piloted by teenagers in space as I, myself, have quite a few unfinished models with which I hope you’ll help me one day – because Cedric or any other boffin than you and I is bound to be a complete disaster,” James said softly, a small smile spreading on his lips. “Or do you really think we have time for me to take you down a long walk on memory lane?”

 

His back finally hitting that metaphorical wall, Q had no choice but to concede and accept his fate. “You will be sleeping on the sofa, you know.”

 

With a smile that could easily rival the Cheshire cat, James slid off his chair and behind Q, running his hands down his arms, entwining their fingers together. “Do I really need to point out how strange it would be for newlyweds to sleep separately on their honeymoon when they have a king sized matrimonial bed at their disposal?” James whispered in Q’s ear, obviously more than aware and pleased with the fact that he was sending shivers down his Quartermaster’s spine.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”  

 

“Putting your wedding ring on and getting you used to my touch, beloved husband,” James continued to whisper in Q’s ear. “You are always so jumpy whenever anyone touches you and that really isn’t how half of a young couple in love is supposed to act on—”

 

“Their honeymoon, yes,” Q finished for James. “But you know perfectly well that I’m only jumpy when certain agents sneak up on me and since the mission has yet to start, kindly keep your limbs, body, and lips to yourself or else I’ll start to suspect you of having an itch that you foolishly think I would be willing  to scratch for you.”

 

Knowing when to stop, James pulled back and moved back in Q’s line of sight. “Far be it for me to point out for a third time in less than an hour when my Quartermaster is wrong, but know that it isn’t just a simple itch and that my family ring not only fits you perfectly without me having to do any sort of modifications to it, but that it also looks good on you.”

 

Q blinked, unsure he had ever felt as confused as he did now. “Are you feeling quite alright, Bond? Or do I need to get Medical down here?”

 

Chuckling and shaking his head again, James held out his hand. “In case you want to check for yourself that I don’t have a fever.”

 

Scowling, Q ignored the offered hand. “You are really worrying me, Bond. This form of banter prior to a mission is different from your usual one.”

 

“I would hate for you to get bored of me or find me predictable, Q,” James said, heading towards the door. “My personal tailor has already prepared your wedding suit which will be delivered by R within the hour.”

 

“Wedding… Bond, I’m really starting to get worried,” Q admitted, quickly moving to block the door and push his hands against James’ forehead. “You’re not warmer than usual,” he muttered, tugging James down by his tie so he could check his temperature with his cheek.

 

And since James was never one to turn down an opportunity when it presented itself, he wrapped his arms around Q’s middle and relaxed. “You are playing the part of a worried husband excellently.”

 

A James Bond with sagged shoulders and no worry lines on his face was like having a lap full of napping cats, so Q didn’t move to push him away – plus, he also secretly enjoyed how the man felt against him, although he knew that James loved _things_ only momentarily. “That’s because I really am worried. Or did you forget that you hit your head quite badly on your last mission?”

 

“I’m not that old,” James muttered, poking Q’s side before releasing him. “I remember that very nasty bump on the head and the way your voice sounded when you realized what had happened and how you looked they brought me back to MI6 and you thought I was too out of it to know what was going on.”

 

Choosing to ignore everything James had said since he was sure he was trying to play an angle here to land himself even more expensive equipment, Q tried to regain control on the meeting. “And yet you tell me that you had a suit custom made for me for our wedding?”

 

“Wedding _pictures_ ,” James corrected himself. “I’m assuming that certain people will hack your laptop—”

 

“Over my dead body,” Q exploded, wrapping his arms around his precious laptop. “I didn’t get to be Quartermaster just by battling my eyelashes and looking pretty or by tugging at people’s heartstrings with a sob story about having always wanted to be the youngest—”

 

“I didn’t—”

 

“You did,” Q hissed at him. “I thought we got over the whole age thing during that first meeting, but I see that I was wrong which I guess doesn’t surprise you since you assume that I can’t do something as simple as making my laptop impenetrable to hackers,” he continued to accuse, poking James’ chest.

 

When it seemed that Q had tired himself out, James places his hand over his to keep it over his chest. “I meant to say that you’ll let them hack your laptop because doing otherwise will blow our covers,” he started to explain slowly, like he would a stubborn child – so this is what Q felt whenever he talked to him, interesting – “and there they will find the folder with our wedding pictures which every newlywed keep close to bust out and show to whoever is dumb enough to show even a bit of interest in their wedding story.”

 

“You have a point,” Q muttered after a moment, clearly embarrassed. “Let’s just forget about my little outburst from earlier then, okay?”

 

Running his fingers over Q’s ring, James bowed his head. “I can never deny anything to my pretend husband.” He let go of Q’s hand and headed towards the door, stopping short of walking out. “Oh, we’ll also have quite a few pictures of our first kiss, as is tradition.” The door closed behind him before Q could revert to his volcanic anger.  

 

 


	11. I can’t believe you talked me into this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a continuation of the previous chapter, sorry guys. Still, enjoy~

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Q muttered, tugging at his purple polka dot clip-op bow tie. He hated suits, he hated the accessories that came with the suits, and he hated that he ended up having to wear one outside of working hours.

 

Eve, on the other hand, obviously loved the tight red dress and the matching high heels she had. “Are you more embarrassed that you’ll be treated like an object for a few minutes or afraid that you’ll hear crickets when I start the bid for you?” She asked, digging her fingers through his hair and ruffling.  “You have to go all the way for the careless look if you want to pull it off.”

 

“I wasn’t going for that look, or any, for that matter” Q grumbled, regretting his decision even more. “It’s not too late to get R to fil in—”

 

“Pamphlets are already printed with your name, your picture, and your bio in it so it’s much too late for any changes to be made,” Eve cut him off, slapping his hands before he could try to arrange his wild hair. “Trust me, your ‘just had sex’ hair works better with this outfit.”

 

Q frowned. “Do I look like a slob or a sex fiend?”

 

“A sexy slob,” Eve said, flicking one of Q’s strands away from his eyes. “Remember to smile and that everyone has been instructed not to let you out of the building until the main even is over, so don’t even bother.”

 

“Now I really feel like a piece of merchandise.”

 

“A very expensive piece of merchandise,” Eve chimed in, pinching his cheeks.

 

***

James rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe anyone would pay 1 pound for 009, let alone five hundred.” He also couldn’t believe that he let Alec drag him to this charity even while he was sober, but M had her eyes on him so it was too late for  him to try and sneak out now.

 

“Well, everybody knows that Judith for accounting really has a thing for him, so what are you going to do?” Alec muttered, shrugging. “But I’m sure the head boffin will get way more than that, so you don’t have to worry about 009 rubbing his bid in your face.”

 

James almost choked on his sip. “Q’s in this?” He asked, grabbing the pamphlet from Alec.

 

“Page twenty,” Alec said, holding his drink away from his suit. “I can’t believe he found a way to complain about you even in his bio. Fifth row,” he added helpfully, grinning at the face James made. “Likes it when his agents don’t steal equipment that isn’t meant for them and when they bring it—”

 

“I can read,” James snapped, turning his attention back to the black and white picture that showcased a Q with glasses askew, wild hair, and the first three buttons of his shirt opened looking surprised at the camera. “Did whoever take this picture know it was for a charity even and not for a pornographic magazine?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Alec tried to be the sensible one for once. “He’s not showing _that_ much skin, James, and you know how unphotogenic Q is, so clearly candid snap was the only way to go.” He felt like he was very close to gagging; responsibility left such a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was for charity – and for pointing out the obvious that James was doing his best to ignore and deny when he was smacked in the face with it. “I do wonder if Jim’s going to be the one who gets him. Or maybe it’s going to be Bertha?”

 

James snorted. “I don’t think his own boffins are allowed to bid for him.”

 

“Well, since this is for charity, M decided that everyone’s allowed to do that, even other ‘lots’,” Alec explained, fighting back a grin. “Of course, now that I say this, I’m thinking that 009 will be the winner.”

 

“The hell he will,” James growled, slipping the pamphlet in his pocket. “Q’s always complaining that I never do anything to make life easier for him… Well, I’ll have him eat his own words when I save him from a boring night with 009.”

 

“I don’t think he considers 009 to be boring—”

 

“He’s too Q to say that out loud, but I know better,” James cut Alec off, crossing his arms over his chest.   

 

“Yes, of course you do,” Alec muttered, shaking his head and wondering if M was going to ask for a cut if he started a betting pool on how horribly the night would end.

 

***

Q let out a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling like his legs were made out of lead. “Look, people are tired, bored out of their mind, so why don’t I just donate two thousand pounds directly instead of prancing around on the stage?”

 

“Because you don’t have two thousand pounds,” Eve reminded him. “And M will be most crossed with you if she catches you trying to sell your kidneys online, so just strut on that stage and own it.”

 

Q opened his mouth to argue, but R’s sharp voice interrupted him. “And our final lot on our list tonight is our very own Quartermaster!” R announced and Eve pushed Q on the stage, both women ignoring his hard glare. “Now our head boffin is a young man of… Well, the age is retracted on my papers as well, as is the name, and his hometown, but all we really need to know is that he’s young, he likes art, agents who bring back their equipment, sci-fi, his tea done just right, and agents dressed in sharp suits.”

 

“Stick to the script, woman! I’m embarrassed enough as it is,” Q hissed, trying to keep his fake smile as he awkwardly walked around the stage, unsure if he should just let his arms hang around his body or if he should rest them on his hips.

 

R outright ignored him. “His hunger is easily subdued with Chinese food and if you really want to wow him, simply present yourself in his office without a single scratch on yourself or your equipment, so why don’t we start the bidding at 20 pounds?”

 

“Fifty!” Someone from the back called before Q could really get angry.

 

R clicked her tongue, pouting. “Just fifty for our youngest and brightest—”

 

“Sixty!” Someone from accounting called.

 

“Sixty-five!” A double oh chimed in.

 

“Two hundred,” 009’s voice thundered, winking in Q’s direction. “Nothing is too much for our Quartermaster.”

 

“Three hundred,” James’ smooth voice broke through the chatter, the storm in his blue eyes lessening somewhat when they connected with Q’s green ones. “If you’re going to force Q to participate in this, might as well give more to the kids for which he’s doing this.”

 

“That’s right,” R chimed in, not one to let something like this past her by. “So is putting Q thought all of this worth _just_ three hundred pounds?”

 

The room was silent for a second while everyone mentally went over how much they could spend without starving until their next paycheck came in and then, when the math was done all noisy hell broke loose. Everyone in the accounting department was out when four hounded pound was reached, the secretarial one quickly following suit when five hundred was announced. Five founded and fifty left just Q’s own department and that of the double ohs going at it, Q being happy that M regretted allowing this to happen since every other department was sure to ask for a raise.

 

When six hundred was reached, the boffins dropped out and seven hundred just left James ‘007’ Bond and Andrew ‘009’ Charleston to try to outbid each other because of course they would find something whose size they needed to compare. But when they started shouting a thousand and something while glaring at each other, their table companions very visibly holding on the edges of their jackets to keep them from jumping over the tables and start throwing punches at each other, R stepped in.

 

“I’ll remind our two bidders that when it comes to them, we only accept cash.”

 

“Not a bloody problem,” James growled. “A thousand five hundred and fifty.”

 

“And fifty? Really, James… Already reached your change when I still won’t feel the thousand seven hundred?” Andrew challenged.

 

“I just wanted to play a bit longer with you, but if you insist on bringing the big guns into play, then two thousand,” James shouted, shushing Alec.

 

“Two thousand five hundred!” Andrew spluttered, now looking at his phone. “I need an advance on my pay!”

 

“Four thousand without any paycheck advancement for me and I’ll bring myself and my equipment back in one piece for the next twelve months as well as hold back from borrowing things that are meant for other agents!”

 

“Sold to 007!” Q shouted, grabbing R’s gavel from her and banged it a few times against the auction block, glaring at 009 until he reluctantly sat down and started to grumble under his breath. “Auction out of the way, let’s all enjoy the rest of the party.” A command more than a suggestion, one that everyone would follow because they feared what might happen to anything with an internet connection that they owned should they ignore him.

 

“Don’t forget to pay the lady,” R shouted from next to the podium, catching the gavel thrown at her head while a beet red Q made a beeline for the backstage, James right behind him. “Bond—”

 

“Alec has my wallet,” James said, jumping on stage. “Q, you need to tell me where you want me to take you out and just remember that if you want Chinese food, China is on the table!”


	12. You lied to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The German sous chef in Ratatouille reminded me of James Bond so I had our agent be a sort of chef.

“You lied to me.”

 

Those four words always sent chills down James’ side and made him think of the worst, especially if they were uttered by a civilian he was interested in. “I beg your pardon?” He asked carefully, struggling to keep his mask from slipping.

 

“You said you weren’t a good chef, but this is the best veal Oscar I’ve ever had,” Q – the civilian in question and his new boss – exclaimed, beaming at him. “And the duck rillettes were excellent and they didn’t make me nauseous at all, so you totally lied to me about needing cooking classes. I’d make you the head chef right this instant if it didn’t end in every member of the kitchen revolting.”

 

Feeling his face becoming warmer, James realized that the heaviness he had felt in his heart up until a few moments ago was the fear of disappointing Q. “I have never cooked professionally and it’s been years since I did anything other than heat up some water for instant noodles or ordered to go.”

 

Q’s smile disappeared and his eyes filled with the same worry and sadness that they had the first time their paths crossed. “I didn’t mean to make you remember those dark times,” he said softly, gently placing his hands around James’ right one and squeezing it. “Your food is really good, but if you feel that you need classes, I will pay for them.”

 

“I will pay you back for everything—”

 

“Nonsense,” Q interrupted him, jumping up from his seat to force James down in it. “Now, even though your food is to die for, I am afraid that I can’t have another bite and not explode, so you will have to finish it for me.”

 

That was a very obvious lie, but James had learned from Q’s very first request – keep still and let him help – that he couldn’t refuse him anything. “You would tell me if I gave you food poisoning instead of making me get it as well, wouldn’t you?”

 

Q’s fake smile dropped and a crinkle formed on his forehead like it always did when he was thinking really hard about a problem he needed to fix right away and James instantly regretted his tease. “You know I would never willingly do anything to cause you any harm, right? I mean, it’s true that coffee I made you that first day the doctor said it was okay for you to have some was the most disgusting thing you ever had, but I didn’t do it on purpose. And I really didn’t think there was so much dust in the spare bedroom to reactivate your allergies, but I got a clean-up team that fixed everything and you only had to temporarily take those pills.”

 

He was rambling which would normally annoy the hell out of James, but Q was another story. The way he sucked on his lower lip between ideas, his eyes because a lighter shade of green, that crinkle turned into a full-fledged frown, and his posh accent became heavier would have made Q more adorable than he already was, know that they were done because he was distress did not still well with James.

 

“Of course I know that, and I understand that everything that happened was a simple accident and nothing else,” James said softly, shoving food in his mouth because to Q, words meant nothing if they weren’t followed by actions to support them. “I’ve had better.”

 

“Well, I haven’t,” Q insisted, very close to pouting. “Still, I can’t wait to eat your homework and see how you improve those little morsels of heaven.”

 

“Would telling my teacher that my boss and friend ate my homework really work?” James wondered out loud, easily dodging the napkin thrown at his head.

 

“I meant after the teacher graded it, of course,” Q grumbled, moving to the sink to start washing all the dirty pots and pans. “We need to make a stop at the specialty store on our way home.”

 

James arched his eyebrow. “Did you try to cook again?” He asked, although he already knew the answer.

 

“We just need a new pan this time, not a new stove,” Q said in his defence, shoulders slumping. “And it wasn’t my fault; the omelette was taking too long and I just had this idea in the back of my head that I simply had to put down on paper before I got another one.”

 

James learned pretty quickly that just because someone owned a restaurant, it didn’t mean that they knew how to cook or that they should be allowed in the kitchen. And in order to properly describe what Q was in the kitchen when he got the bright idea to do anything else other than wash dishes and make tea, you’d need to invent a whole new world because the fire department invented a special code just for when they had to go to his house.

 

“Why don’t you sign up for cooking classes with me?” James asked, sliding behind Q to help him with the dishes. “Not that I don’t like cooking for you and I will insist to do that for as long as you’ll have me in your apartment, but I will feel a lot more at ease knowing that you won’t accidentally burn down the house with you in it when trying to boil a bunch of eggs.”

 

Q flicked water in James’ eyes. “I survived just fine on my own, without cooking lessons, prior to literally stumbling over you in the back of my restaurant’s alley.”  

 

James returned the favour, going further by stealing Q’s glasses and holding them just out of his reach – and instantly regretting doing that because Q rubbed his body against his while jumping in an attempt to get his glasses back. “You ended up buying a new fridge because I said that there was something green moving in one of the many take out boxes you had forgotten in there.” Fingers digging in his shoulder, lips puckered in determination more than annoyance, their bodies continuing to brush against each other… This was a fresh new hell.

 

And of course Q had no idea what he was doing to him or that if James tilted his head just a little bit, they’d kiss and just carried on jumping up and down and pushing closer and closer to him. “I’ve been banned for the cooking school I’m thinking about sending you, so that’s a hard pass.”

 

A panting Q that was leaning on him was where he drew the line, James caught him mid-jump, careful not to wrap his arms around his firm bum. “Then I will teach you,” he said simply and plopped Q on the counter next to him, using his foot to pull the wooden box of potatoes closer. “Lesson one: How to properly peal a potato without cutting our fingers.”

 

Q groaned, running his hands down his face before resting his forehead against James’ shoulder. “But, I don’t want to learn,” he whined. “Even if you’re teaching me, it will still be boring and painful and take time away from the really important stuff.”

 

“Fine, fine, no cooking classes for you then,” James conceded, putting the dreaded potato away as Q beamed at him.

 

If only all of James’ past enemies knew that all it took to subdue him was a thin, grown man with wild brown hair and green eyes hidden under constantly askew thick glasses that whined when it came to taking care of himself, then the world would have been conquered a long time ago.


	13. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?” Q asked incredulously, trying not to flinch every time it thundered.

 

James hummed and smiled, running his hands down his face. “You will excuse me if I allow myself a moment to enjoy freedom and life in general after I’ve been locked up in a basement for the past four months.”

 

“Enjoying nature now won’t do you any good if it lands you in the hospital for God knows how long,” Q chided James, now holding the umbrella over the both of them. “Now come back in before your cough worsens.” He wrapped his arms around James’ right one and started to tug him back towards the building he had walked out without any shoes or a proper shirt. “I know my apartment is boring compared to yours, but unless you want to bunk at MI6 or in Medical, you will have to put up with it and my cats.”

 

James leaned on Q, loving the human contact that did not harm him on purpose and feeling another’s warmth. “There’s nothing wrong with your apartment or your cats, Q, even if the latter have an issue with me sitting on the comfy chair by the window.”

 

How was it that he became a mediator between to fur balls and an assassin? And how was it that this man never had anything nice to say to him even though Q did everything in his power to drag his ass bag from whatever hellhole he managed he had ended up with and providing him as much comfort and normality as he could while also offering him protection from all the evils that were after him?

 

“Well, then you will either have to put up with my presence in my own home or deal with Nurse Martha and Doctor Franz until you’ve fully recovered.” His tone was perhaps colder than what a psychologist would recommend when dealing with someone in James’ fragile state, but sometimes anger got the best of Q and that filter between his brain and his mouth ceased working. Still, he got the inconsiderate twat coffee and gave him his own bed and he was still complaining about having to share living space with him?

 

“I like your presence over anyone’s,” James whispered honestly, resting his head against Q’s shoulder and keeping it there even after the elevator’s doors closed, his body finally relaxing now that there was no night guard that might have been waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill him – even though he was an old MI5 employee that owed Q his life. “You never mind that I start shuffling around the house at 6 in the morning,”

 

“Cats start running about at 4, so I’m used to that,” Q explained, although his cats never booted up one of his many consoles.

 

“You never point out that I eat the same amount of eggs done in the same way every day,” James continued, pulling Q to the side as the elevator doors opened, checking the hallway to be sure that it was safe for them to walk out.

 

Q shrugged, patiently waiting for James to feel safe. “There’s nothing wrong with a decent morning routine and I myself am guilty of having one when it comes to my tea.”

 

Coast clear, James rushed the both of them to the safety of _their_ apartment, continuing to drag Q to the bathroom – he feared that he would never be able to fear such warmth and kindness again if he ever willingly left the man’s side again. “You never complain about having to spend your days with me doing nothing in your apartment or going to the same restaurant over and over again.”

 

“That’s the case when you spend time with people you like,” Q explained softly, leading James in the bathroom and shrugging him off so he could properly wipe him and check his temperature. “But I get what you’re saying and I’ll get the doctors in here tomorrow to see if we’re okay with going out of the city for a few days.”

 

James opened the first aid kit to the now kneeling Q so he could take out the oxygenated water and gauze. “I wasn’t saying anything like that, but I’m all for a little trip outside of London even though I strangely don’t feel like I’m going insane between these cosy walls.”

 

“Good because we’re probably going to an MI5 safe house,” Q said and flinched for James when he poured the water over one of his nastier wounds. “Now, do you want to go to a shitty village somewhere close to the mountains or a shitty village close to the sea?”

 

Cupping Q’s face carefully and leaning down, James brushed their lips together. “I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

 

“The doctor said you’re not well enough to do anything like _that_ just yet,” Q reminded him, not moving away from his touch. This was not the first time James did that and for someone who never had time for human interaction beyond dressing agents up and down, it was pleasant and more than welcomed – a pity James never meant anything by it.

 

“Things might have changed since my last check-up,” James purred, tangling his fingers in Q’s hair. “Just like things changed from my last relationship.”

 

Oh, this was new. “I think you might be confused,” Q said softly, wrapping a bandage around James’ middle. “You’ve been stuck with me in the house for far too long and you think sex is the natural progression of someone taking care of you.”

 

James pulled back, looking somewhat reluctant to let go of Q’s hair, but his smirk remained in place. “Pretty sure that’s not it, but I do love myself a good challenge and you never disappoint when it comes to giving just what I want and what I need.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, throwing a new shirt at James’ head. “You have a special bookmark folder on your laptop, James, and I have really good noise-cancelling headphones if you’re suddenly bothered by me accidentally hearing anything even though you’ve had me in your ear during so many of your honeypot missions, so don’t be shy about mistreating your body however you want.”

 

James bit his tongue, aware of inappropriate what he wanted to offer Q to do was and how much of an insult it would be. “No need for headphones because I would never do that in your home.”

 

“If the doctors say that you’re good to go, I can crash on Eve’s sofa for a night,” Q said after a moment, frowning.

 

“No, no,” James said quickly, wrapping himself around Q once more. “I would never do that alone or with a stranger or with a common acquaintance or friend in your home.”

 

Q snorted and patted James’ face gently. “You’re not going back to your apartment until the doctor says you can, so you can drop the martyr act and get to bed.” He pulled James to his feet and carefully stepped around the purring cats, making his way towards what used to be his bedroom. “And really, you can do whatever you want in there. I’ll simply burn the sheets and the bed, if necessary.”

 

“I really can’t,” James muttered after Q finished tucking him in. “But thank you for being okay with me defiling your bed.”

 

Putting the laptop in James’ lap, Q winked. “Is there anything I wouldn’t do for my unofficial favourite agent?” Q jokingly asked, moving towards the door.

 

“You won’t fall for me,” James said once the room was empty, turning with his back to the door and closing his eyes. “But I’m not one to give up so easily.”


	14. You’re the only one I trust to do this

“You’re the only one I trust to do this,” James said seriously as soon as he entered the little barber shop nestled between the old buildings in the middle of London that had been repurposed as expensive clothing stores.

 

“Are you sure you’re a businessman and not a budding actor?” Q, his young barber, asked while chuckling and patting the chair he expected James to sit down on.

 

“I’m afraid that I’m too boring to be anything that interesting,” James lied, feeling the tension leave his shoulders the second Q wrapped the cutting cape around his neck and ran his hands down his shoulders. “Still, even though I’m a boring businessman, I can’t entrust just anyone with my looks and you were the barber that I have long searched for.”

 

That was, of course, a complete and utter lie. Not only had James never really cared for the barbers that serviced him since he always asked for the standard haircut, but he was also something much more interesting that what he claimed to be – he was a spy on Her Majesty’s payroll.

 

He had also stumbled across Q and his little barbershop by pure accident late one wintery night when he was walking around the city aimlessly, drained of all feelings and joy by the end of his latest mission. Q was outside, struggling by himself to do away with the patch of ice that had formed right in front of his shop when he caught sight of James and, thinking that he was dealing with an unfortunate soul that was homeless, he had dragged James in for a warm cup of tea to go with some food he just happened to have ordered not too long before bumping into him – he clearly placed the order after making sure James didn’t have any frostbite – a shave and a haircut on the house, and to wrap him up in some winter clothes he just happened to have lying around – those clothes were his own, James found out later that night, but Q would deny that to this day.

 

“There’s really not much that I can do for you today,” Q muttered, running his hand through James’ hair, unaware of how good that felt. “Any shorter and you might as well be a cadet in the army.”

 

“Are you sure? Because I thought I saw some split ends.”

 

Q clicked his tongue and leaned over James to glare at him. “I gave you a cut just last week and if you have been using the shampoo I gave you—”

 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that I still need to pay you for it, by the way,” James interrupted, eyes narrowed.

 

Q waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, your hair is just fine and the right length.”

 

“Stubble,” James said hurriedly, taking Q’s hand and running it down his chin. “I have a very important meeting at 6 and it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to have that.” He flashed Q one of his usual charming smiles, hoping that it would work on Q this time.

 

It didn’t. “Mister Bond,” it really didn’t because in the five months that he had known Q for, he learned that the use of an honorific with his family name was bad news, “what is the real reason you are here for? Did you waste all of your money on this suit and you need something to eat until your next check comes in? Or do you need a sofa to sleep on until you find a new apartment because you lost yours in some shady business?”

 

Q had never really bought James’ businessman story and, for whatever reason, James never could turn on his charm to eleven like he usually did. “Why must you always assume the worst when it comes to me?” He asked, clearly offended.

 

Q shrugged. “It somehow seems appropriate,” he said easily, moving to the backroom to retrieve a sandwich and start making some tea. “But what are you doing here?”

 

James was saved from answering by the little bell above the barbershop dinging, but he swallowed the sigh of relief when he saw that Eve Moneypenny – former field agent and current secretary and deadly hound dog to M – had walked in, her small, fake smile turning into a huge, honest grin when Q came into view.

 

She looked like she had discovered the meaning of life and, given the fact that James knew she was running a betting pool on what was making him act more human and more careful in the field, seeing him lounge in a barbershop in his downtime when he clearly didn’t need to be in one, she probably had.

 

“Hello and welcome to my barbershop,” Q said as he placed the plate down on the counter and extended his hand to Eve. “I’m Q. How may I help you?”

 

“Eve,” said the apex predatory. “I’m here for him because he’s late,” she continued, letting go of Q’s hand in favour of leaning on the chair so she could pat James’ shoulders and make things awkward.

 

Q’s smile became an obviously fake on. “Oh, well, we are done here. Not that we were doing anything to begin with,” he quickly added, nervously running his hands up and down his apron.

 

“Given that his hair is the exact length as it was this morning, I believe you,” Eve said with clear amusement in her voice, not having to bother to order James out of the chair because as soon as he noticed how uncomfortable she had made Q, his hand was already around her arm, dragging her towards the door while wishing a quiet Q a good day.

 

But Eve wasn’t done just yet and despite the fact that she had high heels, didn’t seem to have muscles, and that she was half a head shorter than James, if she didn’t want to do something or go somewhere, then you couldn’t move her. “One more thing—”

 

“No more things,” James growled, the air subtly getting knocked out of him not a second later when Eve’s elbow connected to his neck.

 

“Are you doing anything later?” She asked Q as she easily freed herself from the gasping James, leaning against the counter and smiling sweetly at Q, blocking his sight of James’ collapsed form. “I noticed that the barbershop closed ten minutes ago and I do think that the day is much too nice to be wasted outside of a restaurant and a nice little walk.”

 

Q’s attention instantly shifted away from James to Eve and he took a step back from the counter, chuckling awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You are a very beautiful woman, but I do not swing that way.”

 

“Excellent!” Eve declared, grabbing the back of James’ collar – he had crawled closer to her with the intention of breaking the heels of her favourite pair of really expensive shoes – and pulled him up. “I was worrying that my friend here was barking up the wrong tree, but now that we’re all on the same page, would you be interested in going out with him?”

 

“I... Does he want to go out on a date with me?” Q asked back, tilting his head to the side as he looked at James with a mixture of hope and confusion.

 

Eve snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, let’s see,” she uttered, moving away from the counter just in time to dodge James throwing himself at her. “If my calculations are right, he has been visiting you at least once a week in the past five months even though he doesn’t need a barber and if I’m right, he has always done this on the days in which he has a new suit that brings out not only his eyes, but his other assets as well. Now why would he be doing that if he didn’t want to go out with you?”

 

“Oh,” Q muttered, realization washing over him. “I just assumed he liked the tea I made and that he needed food. I did find him in a terrible state, after all.”

 

“He hates tea with a burning passion,” Eve breathed out, eyes shining with mischief. “What else did you get him to do? He’s a very picky person, so I’m dying to see just how tightly you have him wrapped around you little finger.”

 

By then, James had recovered enough to talk properly – and, frankly, to stay on his own two feet, but Q was acting as his crutch – so he spoke up before Eve charmed Q into telling her about how James had spent a few nights on his sofa without attempting anything. “My nosy and extremely rude friend here beat me to it, but _would_ you like to go to dinner with me?”


	15. Just once

“Just once,” Q said, tilting his head to the right and pretending to think deeply before opening his mouth again. “Or was it twice? Or maybe never before? You know, I can’t really be sure; I think my mind is starting to leave me in my old age and all that.”

 

The High Inquisitor – a tall man with blond hair and half his face disfigured supposedly due to a rogue mage trying to escape him, but rumoured that he had done it himself when he dabbled with things he shouldn’t have – let out a suffering sigh that Q simply loved. “I will ask you again—”

 

“You really shouldn’t bother, Silva,” Q interrupted him, narrowing his eyes as he shot him a grin. “I’m not the type of person who would impart any information, should I have any, with the likes of you.”

 

It was very clear that Silva wanted to smack him. “Your Highness, you were caught aiding the rebels and I suspect that this wasn’t the first time you did it, so I will ask you again: how many times before today have you helped the rebels before today?” Q shrugged and Silva growled, pinching the bridge of his nose while his subordinates looked uncomfortably at each other. “Your father is very disappointed with you.”

 

“You’re not telling me anything new,” Q muttered, tugging on his restraints. “Now how about you drop this and let me go? You won’t get anything out of me and I have better things to do with the rest of my day than to put up with you.”

 

Silva licked his lips and cracked his knuckles. “I was ordered to round up every last rebel in this country,” he started to say slowly, fingers glowing blue as he summoned his magic, “and you, Your Highness, got caught aiding and abetting who we believe to be the head of the rebel faction and that makes you a rebel with very important knowledge that I need in order to complete my task.”

 

Q knew what was going to happen and he tried not to show Silva that he was afraid. He had never been under the impression that just because he was the crowed prince, he was safe from his father’s Inquisition or wrath, so he had always been careful with what he was doing. He had everyone wear masks and use codenames and no one knew anything about him other than the fact that he was a mage with incredible powers.

 

“I don’t know anything, so you will be wasting your time,” Q promised Silva, voice flat, hands fisted.

 

Silva flashed him a smile, showing off his missing teeth. “You will excuse me if I check that for myself,” he whispered and placed his glowing hands on Q’s temples, sucking the breath out of him as a searing, hot, white pain travelled through his body. “Give me names!” Silva ordered.

 

Q wanted to snort, but he was pretty sure that all that came out was a scream. He really didn’t know names, but he could tell him animal names. There was the fox, the wolf, the lion, the cat, and the stag—

 

“Give me their _names_ ,” Silva insisted, the pain in Q’s head becoming stronger and starting to spread to the rest of his body.

 

But he didn’t have any names, Q insisted in his mind. He didn’t know what they looked like because he made everyone wear masks just in case he was caught. They all acted like they knew each other for a long time and they were very reluctant to let him in their ranks. They didn’t care that he had showed up just when they needed him because it was all very suspicious – which he had to agree to – but then the stag saved him for the guards at the very last moment.

 

“Who is this stag?” Silva demanded. “Is he the ruler? Did you see his face?”

 

No! He didn’t know anything about the stag! He never saw his face, he never found out his name, and the stag never took him back to the safe house or his actual house.

 

“Lies,” Silva whispered in his ear. “You know who the stag is and you know how _he_ looks like and if you tell me, all this pain will stop and you will actually get to walk out of here alive. How does that sound, Your Highness?”

 

Really good, but not something that he’d ever do because the stag was everything to him and his new family didn’t deserve to go through all this pain only to be killed for wanting freedom. “I don’t know anything,” Q hissed, struggling to summon his own magic to free himself.

 

But Silva had backup and he ordered his subordinates to focus their powers on Q the second he noticed his hands starting to glow and Q was reduced to a screaming mess who couldn’t focus on a single thought, let alone a spell. “You’re only making things harder for yourself, Your Highness,” Silva said, ceasing his torture for a moment to grab Q by the hair and tug him close. “Do you really think that they’d be as tight lipped as you are? Do you really think this stag you keep focusing on wouldn’t sell you out to save himself?”

 

“Dead sure,” Q gasped out, smiling through his pain. “Not that I know anything about any of the members. Or if the rebellion has members or if it’s something really. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things? I was attacked first and it only made sense for me to defend myself.”

 

“I apologize for what will follow,” Silva muttered, the sadistic glint in his eyes giving away the fact that his apology was hollow.

 

***

People had always considered him to be someone who lived for conflicts and who rode I battles alongside his own soldiers because he thrived on personally killing others and on bathing in the blood of his enemies, not because he cared for his people. He wasn’t bothered by the fact that he was considered a warlord – that just meant his kingdom was safe and everyone thought twice about attacking them – nor did he really worry about producing an heir since General Silva was young and shared the same vision as him.

 

And then he met _her_ , a kind, young, brown haired goddess of healing with deep green eyes and no patience for his nonsense and he suddenly cared about how he was seen. He cared what people told _her_ about him and her disapproving looks hurt more than sword that pierced his skin or spell that hit him full on.

 

She became the single ray of warm light of his life for which he was willing to do anything and, not too long after being crowned as his Queen, she brought in the world the second ray of warm light and he couldn’t be more happy with bouncing his baby boy on his knees and doing whatever he could to keep his wife and son happy and safe.

 

But Death did not fear him and the king got to know complete bliss for a total of only four years before his wife was taken away from him, leaving him with a hole in his soul which would never be filled and a curious baby boy who seemed eager to crawl away from him. He had been thankful for a single moment when he saw how peaceful his wife looked in death, a sight he had forgotten after being forced to sit powerless at her side as she writhered in pain for months and saw her slowly forget everything, but that quickly gave way to grief, loneliness and sadness.

 

He forced himself to focus on his young son, but he soon started to dislike the curiosity which he had found once so endearing because he knew that it was going to spell out trouble later in life. He also didn’t like how he had started to build things, the tips of his son’s fingers glowing whenever he got excited about how something had turned out, but he also couldn’t really stand how upset he got when he was deprived by the current thing he found interesting, so he was caught between a rock and a solid place.

 

His inability to stomach his son sad led to the little control he had starting to wane when the prince turned ten and he fully lost it when the young prince turned fourteen and managed to sneak out of the castle and saw what the outside world truly was like. By the time his father found him, the young prince’s mind had been corrupted and his innate magic awoken and there was nothing else to be done from that moment on but to try to get his powers under control and to keep him locked inside the castle, which pretty much made the prince nothing more than a prisoner with a better place to rest head.

 

That was easier said than done, of course, his son becoming an expert at escaping by the time he turned twenty-one. Many suspected that the prince was himself part of the rebellion that was born not long after the queen died and some were even foolish enough to demand that the king execute his unruly son – those people didn’t have a very long life.

 

“Your Majesty, the prince has been found and brought back to the castle,” one of the many faceless guards said, bowing low.

 

“Lock him in his room as always,” the king ordered, narrowing his eyes and leaning slightly forward when he saw how tense the soldiers had suddenly become. “What’s wrong?”

 

“The prince is currently detained by the High Inquisitor, Your Majesty,” the soldier said slowly, visibly trying to make himself smaller.

 

That got the king to rise from his throne. “I’m unaware of authorizing the naming of a new High Inquisitor.”

 

“Raoul Silva still holds the title, Your Majesty.”

 

The king was now circling the slightly trembling soldier – and also making a mental note to have him kicked out of the army for what use had he for someone who feared their own ruler? “If Silva is still the High Inquisitor, then he should know that the prince is to be delivered to his room after every escape attempt, so why is he, as you’ve put it, _detaining_ him?”

 

“The prince was caught helping the rebels escape so the High Inquisitor decided to question him.” Everything was said in a single breath and the soldier now looked like he was close to passing out due to the lack of air, not fear, which was only slightly better than before.

 

Not that the king cared about that too much, his blood boiling with anger inside of him as his own heartbeat drowned out all the other councillors trying to calm him down. “This is betrayal of the highest order!” The king shouted, grabbing the snivelling soldier and throwing him into the gaggle of – what he currently considered to be – useless old men who knew little else beyond whispering in his ear how his own kingdom should be ran. “I’ll have his head for this and none shall stop me!”

 

He cared little that Silva was the only one who had managed to subdue the rebellion. He didn’t care that the only reason he hadn’t cut down the vast majority of his own subjects was Silva interfering with the rebellion network and stopping it before it grew large enough to swallow his kingdom whole and had no ears to lend to words that assured him Silva was also the one who ensured that no filthy rebel infiltrated his personal guard so they’d have an easier time killing him because his son was in danger.

 

***

“The High Inquisitor has him,” Alec – his childhood friend and trusted right hand man – hissed at him, throwing himself over James to keep him from jumping out of the bushes and attacking the guards. “We need more information.”

 

“We don’t have time for that,” James snapped back, shrugging Alec off himself. “You know what that man can do, so don’t tell me to give him more time with Q.”

 

Alec made to grab him again, but held back when it became clear that James would try to sneak in this time. “Bedded more beautiful women than he can count and this one boy has him wrapped around his little finger and unable to think,” he whispered to no one in particular, carefully following James in the castle.

 

Not that he hated Q or fully blamed him for James’ short-sightedness as his friend was never really the kind to plan beyond temporarily surviving, but it was impossible to deny that he had become a lot more short-sighted ever since their paths crossed. But that was balanced somewhat by Q’s own fixation with proper plans that actually worked – when they didn’t have a snake in their midst that called the inquisitors on them.

 

“You know he’ll kick you out of bed if you get so much as a scratch out of this whole thing, right?” Alec continued to try to talk some sense in James while also helping him carry the five guards he had knocked out into what had to be a closet.

 

James snorted, taking out a thin piece of metal out of his pocket and applying it over the deepest gash on his arm, watching it glow for a moment before disappearing into his skin and making the wound almost completely disappear. “I have very interesting and pleasant ways of pacifying him.”

 

Alec made a gaging sound, throwing both his arms backwards and sending the hidden thin, enchanted knives Q had made especially for him right into the necks of the two guards who had tried to sneak up on him. “I know you’ll cook his favourite meals for him and then grovel for a few hours because this is Q we are talking about, so don’t even bother trying to sound like you’re going to sex your way off of the sofa because we both know that won’t be the case.”

 

He had known from the second his eyes landed on Q two years ago that he was special. The young mage had showed up seconds before the guards caught let out a powerful spell that put to sleep ‘only those who bent a knee to royalty’ – a spell which he had come up with on his own, he proudly told them later, when they took him to their safe house – and did not break a sweat while doing it. But Q turned out to be even more special to James, the man having fallen for him the second his eyes landed on him so he tended to do things that he normally wouldn’t do for past lovers.

 

Sure, the first thing that had left James’ mouth after properly introducing themselves with the fake names Q had chosen for them could have been considered as insults – because they were and Q was more than happy and comfortable to insult the man back and put him his place – but he had instantly trusted the young mage and even got in a bit of a row with another member of their group over letting Q come back with them to their hideout right after that first meeting.

 

Alec was glad when it turned out that James had been right to trust Q right off the bat since his friend was well-known for making poor choices dictated by his sexual drive rather than by his actual brain and outright happy when he walked in on the two of them being all domestic on multiple occasions.

 

“He’s in the first cell on the floor right below this one,” James said, ducking with Alec in an empty cell as four guards passed by.

 

Alec struggled not to groan, forcing James to stay right where he was as four more guards rushed by. “Are you sure that you can trust what a terrified guard told you, James?”

 

“Not like we have a choice,” James muttered, the little patience he had completely running out as two more guards passed by their cell and he grabbed them with the obvious intent to steal their uniforms.

 

The armour didn’t fit them exactly, but everyone was much too busy to notice that. They did consider themselves lucky for all of ten minutes until they walked in the cell Q was being held in and pretty much bumped into a very angry looking king.

 

Alec saw danger and James saw red in front of his eyes because there was a passed out and bleeding Q with the king’s hand over his head and in that second, he forgot that the reason the High Inquisitor was a mage was because the king himself could not produce so much as a small spark of fire – the easiest of spells that even a 7 year old could do – and attacked the king he thought had inflicted the pain on his beloved.

 

Caught off guard, the king was easily knocked out and the High Inquisitor seemed much too busy trying to save himself to actually try and stop them, so James quickly threw Q over Alec’s shoulder and both of them silently decided that they’d try to kill the king another time because more guards had already poured into the room and formed a wall around him.

 

They had an easy time up until they got to the middle of the courtyard, moment in which the king appeared out of nowhere, looking more bloodthirsty than ever.

 

“Return him to me and your deaths shall be swift,” the kind growled, the tip of his sword grazing James’ neck.

 

“I don’t think so,” James shot back, pushing the king’s sword away with his own.

 

James expected their swords to clash, but the king seemed much more interested in his former prisoner and easily pushed James out of his way and made to grab Alec, growling when the other man dodged him. James charged the king again, trying to give Alec enough time to get away, but he was once again ignored and forced to deal with mere guards.

 

“Give me the boy,” the king ordered, forcing Alec to slowly back into a group of soldiers.

 

“If I were any less of a man, I would,” Alec said, taking a swing at the soldiers and then at the king while also trying to keep Q shielded. But he knew he couldn’t keep this up for long; they were surrounded and they didn’t really have anything that they could trade for their lives – well, they had information, but the freedom of others was far more important than their own lives. “It doesn’t really matter if you kill us or not, you know. As long as the people want freedom, there will always be a rebellion and others will take—”

 

“You and the other will walk away with your lives if you just give me the boy,” the king interrupted him and Alec realized that he was holding back, the soldiers probably ordered to do the same since he was still standing without a dozen swords in his back. “Come on; drop the boy and go back to plotting my downfall.” He waved his hand and a bleeding James was thrown at Alec’s legs. “Drop the boy,” the king kept insisting, growling and pushing the tip of his sword against the back of James’ neck. “Do it before I lose my patience and your precious little rebellion its leader.”

 

With a heavy sigh, Alec dropped his sword and lowered Q to the ground, causing the king to push his sword deeper in James’ back to keep him right where he was. “We are an idea, not a monarchy, so the rebellion won’t disappear if we fall. Plus, there will be no living with either myself or James if I give Q up to you.” He pulled out his enchanted knives and charged the king, but before he could get himself sliced in half, a wall of red light went up between himself and the king and both of them were pushed back as the magic wall pulsated once and then crumbled.

 

“Must I tell you not to run towards sharp objects?” Q gasped from James’ arms, hand glowing and blood trickling down his chin from his nose as he focused on healing some of the blond man’s wounds.

 

The soldiers were kind of hanging around, unsure what to do as they looked from each other to their groaning king, acting like nothing more than enchanted puppets that couldn’t think or move on their own. This was the perfect moment for them to try to escape and neither Alec nor James wasted it, Alec pretty much turning himself into a human shield as he barrelled through the wall of confused soldiers, James hot on his heels with a half-conscious, spell-casting Q cradled in his arms.

 

***

“I did what I had to do for the best of our kingdom, Your Majesty,” Silva whimpered, barely manage to hold open the only eye he had left. “The prince is holding you down—”

 

The king slapped the broken man so hard that he dislodged a tooth from his mouth. He would have hit him again because there was something even more asymmetrical about his face now, but there was no pleasure to be drawn out of trying to inflict pain on passed out people.

 

“Have you found my son?” The king asked the messenger that probably lost a bet, barely holding himself back from breaking his neck when he shook his head. “Make the reward bigger for whoever has information about the rebellion and make sure to guarantee their safety both from us and from the common folk.”

 

“It will be as you command.”

 

“Of course it will,” the king exploded, pushing away the old wizards that quickly came to his with the intent of calming him down. “Do something useful with your powers like tracking down my son or be gone!” They all disappeared in a flash because they were completely useless when it came to his son because, although not properly trained, he took after his mother and she had been one of the – if not the most – powerful wizards of his land.

 

His anger and frustration sparked a memory he had long thought forgotten. Back when his still infant son managed to tap in his powers and disappear right out of his arms, his wife chuckling lightly as she tapped his forehead and they both found themselves in the room Q had escaped to, him feeling like his heart was close to giving out and she not quite chiding their happy little boy who was too busy ignoring her in favour of tugging on his father’s cape.

 

“ _I can’t deal with a child that can disappear whenever he wants to,_ ” he had whined, resting his pounding head on his wife’s lap now that their son was all tuckered out and safely asleep in his crib by the side of their bed. “ _Just imagine how easy he’ll sneak out!_ ”

 

“ _Darling, you’re overthinking it_ ,” his wife had said, running her hand down his cheek. Oh God, how much he missed her touch. She liked to grind down her own potion ingredients, so her hands had never been soft like a proper lady’s, but they still felt soft to the king. The way she sometimes almost touched him drove him mad and he missed the warmth that she emanated, her cold, dead body somehow feeling even more unnatural when he kissed her forehead for the last time before he was forced to put her in the ground.  “ _Ah, darling… you have that deep frown again which I hate._ ”

 

“ _I worry_ ,” he admitted, turning himself into a tighter ball in her arms.

 

“ _Parents usually do, my king._ ” She covered his eyes with her hand and he heard her chuckle the way she usually did when she thought people were making mountain out of a molehill. “ _I will put your worries to rest, as usual, darling. But be patient._ ”

 

She was still healthy when that had happened, of that he was sure. Just as he was sure that he had been patient – or as patient as he could be – and she… What did she do? He could remember Q zapping out of the room when it came time for feeding and him finding him in the flash without breaking a sweat, so what had his wife done?

 

“Y-your majesty?” One of the servants said softly, snapping him out of his pleasant reverie and flinching – almost let out a whimper, actually – when his king turned his angry glare on him. “I apologize for disturbing you, but you asked to be notified when we get done sorting through all the information—”

 

“I know perfectly well what I told you to do, so get on with it,” the king snapped, clasping his trembling hands behind his back, sure that if the servant saw how truly angry he was, he would dissolve into a sobbing mess, too busy to beg for his life to deliver whatever bad news he was carrying.

 

“All dead ends, I am afraid.” As well as he should be. “But we will continue our search,” the servant added quickly, falling in step right behind the now stomping king. “I am sure that sooner or later, someone will come to us with the truth.”

 

“You best pray it’s sooner than later, now leave my sight before I give into my sword’s bloodlust and bathe it in yours.” The man was gone even before he was done talking and a visage of his wife shaking her head disapprovingly at him came much too easy to his mind for his liking, but he was sure that in the long run, she would understand his anger.

 

Still, he did not dare look to her side of the bed when he got to his room, afraid that he’d see her ghost glaring at him from there, blaming him for what was happening to their son. She wouldn’t be completely wrong to do that because it was his fault that he didn’t realize how far gone Silva was, but he had no control over Q’s lack of understanding of why certain things had to be done.

 

He caught sight of a little bird that had been part of a toy set his wife had made for Q before her last ounce of strength and… Wait. Early on in his infancy, Q went through a destructive streak – well, sort of destructive; he tended to take apart things and try to put them back together – so after the first three normal toys, they only stuck to soft replicas of animals, his only hard toys being things that could easily be connected and disconnected without them breaking.

 

But this bird… Yes, he suddenly remembered his wife holding a little box filled with these golden birds and letting Q nibble on one. He knew he was worried about something in regards to that bird, so he chided Q about putting it in his mouth, so it was no surprise that the little prince let out a huff before throwing it at his head and disappearing.

 

“And then, not even a second later, I was right next to him and the bird was no more,” the king muttered, clutching the bird tighter in his hand. Was this—No, that question was already answered. What he should be asking is _how_. What did he have to do to activate it? Maybe if he focused on Q and hold on tightly to the bird?

 

***

James forced himself to not flinch when he sat down on the bed next to Q. “Today didn’t exactly go the way I wanted.”

 

Q hummed, not quite powerful enough to sit up straight and pull James into a hug. “I never expected her to be a traitor,” he muttered, frowning. “Today was on me—”

 

“No,” James quickly interrupted him, leaning over him and gently cupping his chin. “I was the one who brought Elektra in and it was my job to ensure that everyone got out of there, especially you.” He rested their foreheads together. “I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

 

“Probably die foolishly given that you’re foolish enough to attack someone like the king without at least properly bandaging your fresh wounds,” Q teased, wrapping his arms around James’ neck. “Don’t ever do anything as stupid as that, especially when we’re technically in the middle of an important conversation,” he whispered.

 

“Then let’s never finish that oh so important discussion and don’t ever sacrifice yourself for me,” James shot back, moving his face to Q’s neck and getting ready to bite down, only to stop when he felt Q’s warm hand slowly move down his back. “Q, you’re too exhausted for healing; leave it.”

 

Q hummed, pulling James against his chest and resting his chin on his forehead. “Really, darling… I saw how bad your wounds looked, so you need a healing. And if you’re nice enough, I can also offer you the _other_ kind of feeling,” he continued, not quite managing to rub himself against James due to how sore his muscles were.

 

“Not even that,” James said, easily pushing Q back down on the bed and capturing his arms above his head. “But I do believe that kissing is still on the table.”

 

He started to trail little kissed down his forehead, but their lips never connected, something grabbing the back of James’ neck and roughly pulling him off of Q, a low growl filling the room. “Get your hands off my child, you filthy scum,” the king said slowly from the top of the bed, two giant swords pointed at James. “You’re killing him.”

 

With James in danger, Q found his strength again and put himself between his angry father and his lover. “You’ll be the one doing the killing if you don’t back away, father.” He turned his head slightly to give him an apologetic look, fully aware that this little secret could easily be considered betrayal of the highest order.

 

He hadn’t meant to hide who his father was, but it was never a good time to reveal that part of himself. Telling him right off the bat that he was the crowned prince was out of the question for obvious reasons. Then a chance presented itself after the first time he really put himself in danger to save the leader – James – but he kind of got side-tracked by the man’s lips over his and the joy that filled him that the man was also interested in him. Then he heard one of James’ nightmares about being betrayed and thought that him telling him then would be a kick he really didn’t need.

 

“Q, it would break your mother’s heart if she saw this, so just step away,” his father said slowly, lowering his swords a little.

 

“No,” Q said stubbornly, ignoring how hard his head hurt and how the room seemed to slowly start to tilt when he focused on creating a wall between himself and his father.

 

Angered by his son’s stubbornness, the king struck the magic shield with his swords, instantly breaking it. “For once in your life, listen to me, boy,” he pleaded. “A plague that only affects mages hit our land a long time ago.”

 

Q shook his head “You’re lying.”

 

“I swear on your mother’s soul and grave that I’m not,” the king shouted, throwing his swords to the ground and kneeling before his trembling son. “Your mother was among the first to die from it and since then, I’ve been trying my best to save everyone without causing panic and without isolating our country from the rest of the world, consequences of my actions be damned.”

 

For his father to swear on something as sacred to him as that, then that had to mean that he was speaking the truth. And yet, he did not feel sick – well, his current condition didn’t count because no one felt well after being tortured. The other few mages that were part of the rebellion were spiffy as were the ones that worked for his father. “I don’t believe you,” Q said simply, startled when James moved to stand by his side and wrapped an arm around his middle. “I meant to tell you, honestly, James.”

 

“I knew,” James said softly, resting his head against Q’s temple. “But it didn’t matter back then and it doesn’t matter now.” He knew better than to show any sign of affection in front of his would-be father-in-law, but he really couldn’t help it. Q looked and felt like he needed a reassurance that nothing between them had changed and a peck seemed perfect. “So you claim Q is sick?"


	16. I think we need to talk

“I think we need to talk.”

 

Cold voice, arms crossed, foot tapping. Yeah, saying that the Quartermaster was upset was an understatement and seeing that he was also glaring at Alec from behind a thick report from a folder with the word ‘Budget’ written in bold, red letters on its covers, it only made sense.

 

“Take a seat, 006,” Q instructed him, kick said seat closer to Alec. “I would hate for your legs to start hurting before you’re done with whatever excuse you’ll come up with this time.” His voice tone indicated the exact opposite of that, but it also indicated that if Alec didn’t do exactly as he said, he’d blow that last fuse he had.

 

Even though he was nothing but a human with some magician tendencies, Q had no trouble holding his own against the myriad of monsters he worked with. He did not bat a single eyelash when Alec rushed him in a long, dark corridor the first time they met, simply arching his eyebrow and asking him if he needed to be fixed to cure him of his psychotic prancing, snorting and daring to turn his back when Alec snarled at him – it was a very stupid thing to do especially since he reeked of fear, but he still eared his respect because he _trusted_ him not to attack an ally.

 

With his trust won, most of the other agents backed off. Some even started crushing on the human, 001 being the worst of the lot as she was half-drake and she was in her ‘hoarding’ phase and she said out loud on more than one occasion that she’d love nothing more than to plop the brown-haired Quartermaster in the middle of her mansion and keep him safe and happy. 002, the fairy, kept brining him shiny things which were also a kind of declaration of love, but he was a flirt and no one paid him any attention. The literal harpy that was 003 paid little attention to him outside of work, as did 004 who was a kitsune and 005 who was the offspring of a happily married undine.

 

Alec’s infatuation with Q was a suspicion that many had, but no one dared to tease him about it, not even the draconic 001 as she was much younger than him. Said infatuation was complete bullshit, of course. Alec liked the human enough, yes, and Q was one of the most interesting people he’d met in a long while, but they were awkward friends at best and neither of them was interested.

 

The second bump in Q’s acceptance within MI13 came in the form of James ‘007’ Bond. He was an old vampire who learned early on into his stint as a double oh that trusting newcomers was a horrible idea. As a result of what had happened back then, only Alec knew the real him and anyone that came after them was regarded with disdain and untrustworthiness, especially if they were a human.

 

And Q was terrified of him. He still treated him as if he were a normal human, praising him in the rare moments he did something good and scolding him whenever he did something dangerous that was done just because he could or when his equipment bit the dust or ended up with any kind of wound that, again, could have not happened if he would have only listened to him, but he reeked of fear in those moments.

 

Alec suspected that it hurt James on some level that a man who had still continued to turn his back to 009 after the merman had sung him a song, always made sure to be facing him even though he had only bared his fangs at him a single time and that was only to show that he was fine. Q had actually turned pale when that happened and he grabbed the table to keep his hands from covering his own neck. Alec had never seen James look more insulted than he did in that second in his entire life.

 

“006, would you like to go to Medical?” Q asked him slowly, looking honestly worried until Alec shook his head after which his cold mask was back on. “Well then, explain yourself.”

 

“In my defence, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.” He threw in an innocent smile at the end, hoping it would help but he could tell by the way Q’s eye was twitching that it was only make things worse. “At least I tried this time?”

 

Q sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, probably trying to keep a headache at bay. “Not hard enough, 006, and we both know that you can do—”

 

“If a werewolf tells you he did his best, then he did his best,” came James’ voice from the shadows and Q’s smell changed as fast as his shoulders tensed.

 

Alec sent James a glare as Q cleared his throat and turned his chair to better face the dark corner of  his office where the vampire was. “I was just getting to you, 007,” he said slowly and steady, his voice not really sounding any different from when he was speaking with any of the other agents. “As his partner, why weren’t you there to ensure that what happened didn’t happen? And most importantly, why did Medical have to put three bags of blood in you?”

 

James huffed, moving out into the light to better glare at Q. “Since when have I answered to you, child?”

 

“Since I’ve been named your Quartermaster,” Q shot back, standing his ground even as James moved in to lean over his desk. “Where were you, 007?”

 

“I was dealing with the ghouls you didn’t take into account when planning for this mission, little alchemist,” James snarled. “Always expect those when a Necromancer is involved,” he added with disdain and then, because James insisted on having the last word especially when this Quartermaster was involved, disappeared in the blink of an eye.

 

“We didn’t know about the Necromancer which is why you were sent first to infiltrate the bloody castle,” Q called out after room, sighing and slumping in the chair, needing a moment to remember that Alec was still there and looking quite embarrassed about his outburst.

 

But it was Alec’s turn to tense up and fight back his urge to let out a low growl as a most disgusting smell started to sweep into the air. He moved to hide Q behind him, his bones beginning to crack and pop as his skin starting to feel too tight for his second form and he was ready to pounce the moment the door opened, but the pencil pusher was saved from having his own umbrella shoved were the sun doesn’t shine before other, more painful things happened by Q’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

“Manners, Alec, manners,” Q whispered in his ear.

 

And he minded them if only because he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were for the poor human, moving to hide in the shadows as the plump old man hobbled into the office, huffing at Q’s greeting. “It was a fine day one hour ago, when I hadn’t seen your agency’s latest report.” He sat down on the chair without being asked to, managing to look offended by the chair itself. “I’m waiting for both my cup of tea and an explanation and both of them better be good.”

 

Not growling was no longer an option, but Q tugged Alec back before he could attack, giving him one of his trademark hard stares. “Our missions always take a surprise twist and I’m out of tea.” He wasn’t and the old man could clearly see the very full tin on Q’s desk. “As it so happens, 006 here alongside 007 had to take down a necromancer that resulted in a bit more damage than we were expecting.”

 

The man drummed his fingers once on his umbrella, looking very nervous in Alec’s direction, smelling ten times more afraid that Q had ever had even when facing James. “I think that this conversation would best be had just between the two of us,” he said carefully, doing his best to avoid Alec’s gaze.

 

“I wasn’t done debriefing my Quartermaster about how the mission went.” He made to pull a chair right next to him and maybe even twist in such a way that he could show off his sharp fangs, but Q’s sigh stopped him. “Though I guess that could wait, if that’s what my Quartermaster wants.”

 

Q shot him a thankful look and then nodded. “Go and have lunch, 006, and take your time since I suspect that this will be a long conversation.”

 

The second he closed the door behind him, he heard the boring pencil pusher start to scold Q about the damages caused by himself and 007. Alec almost lost it when the old man called Q incompetent and made to go back in, but the wolpertingers that were a part of Q’s technician team blocked his path.

 

“The Quartermaster told you to come back after you had lunch,” one of them told him, her glamour shimmering just enough to show off just how huge and pointy her antlers were and to announce that she was more than willing to fight with a werewolf.

 

Alec liked this wolpertinger quite a lot. She was fierce and she too knew how to act tough even when she was afraid, although she was pretty daft when she was being hit on – which was always when she interacted with him. “R,” he purred, for that was the designation Q had given her, “that ancient bag of bones can be my lunch. Q never said that I couldn’t eat him; he just said that I had to go have lunch.”

 

The woman rolled her brown eyes at him. “ _I_ ’m saying that you can’t eat him.”

 

“What if I just nibble on him without actually swallowing?” R’s eye twitched and Alec decided that he had upset enough boffins for one day. “Then again, he does look like he’d give me food poisoning the second I touch him, so Chinese it is.”

 

***

Understandably, everyone thought that he hated his young, human Quartermaster. Everyone was wrong, of course. He _liked_ the young man and that was the main problem James had with Q and he wondered if it would have killed him if he were a dried up prune that was the most unlikable asshole in the universe? Did he really have to be so bloody innocent and full of life and working for MI13?

 

Another problem he had with Q was that the young man continued to fear him for no good reason even though two years had passed since their first meeting. Q’s  fear both baffled and annoyed him because he was the kind of vampire that avoided any unnecessary killing and when he did have to end someone’s life, he sought to do with in the quickest and most painless way possible – unless they had done something to someone he cared for but even then, he was tame compared to others.

 

Dear Eve Moneypenny – a curious combination of mythical creatures he dared not even think about for fear that the woman would pop in his dreams for the next month or so just to tease him about his train of thought – suggested at one point that maybe Q was the skittish mouse type, someone who feared even their own shadows, but James knew by then that it wasn’t the case because he was completely relaxed and friendly with everyone but him.

 

Now he could try to be nice and show Q that he deserves to be shown his back and invited to his office for a tea and a chat about something not work related like everyone else does, but James was of the opinion that he had done so much for MI13 and the mortal world at large that he shouldn’t have to do anything other than show up for this mortal to fully trust him.

 

Was he going out of his way to be a dick as a result of that? Not fully, no. James hadn’t reached the venerable age of whatever it was because he was a petty idiot that threw himself in harm’s way just to make someone’s life harder than it already was, but he did end up being a vampire because he had a hard time doing what he was being told when he thought he knew an easier way of doing things.

 

He was quick to regret his stubbornness though, because him _accidentally_ destroying things ended in Q getting chewed out by stuffy old men who couldn’t see beyond their numbers and who didn’t understand that a building going down or an expensive car getting crashed was at least ten times better than even a single innocent losing his life.

 

Having forgotten how to deal with regret – or rather, having forced himself to forget how to feel that the second his second would-be wife drowned herself because she was too afraid to deal with the consequences of allowing herself to be turned into a puppet against James and having fallen in love with him – it quickly gave way to annoyance which then turned into anger because Q had started to harp on him for not being careful while suffocating him with the smell of fear and deafening him with how hard and fast his heart was beating. Worse still, despite everything, Q still seemed much more preoccupied with fretting over how he might have died.

 

Now, given that an old building had went down while he was point man and Alec was backup since a Necromancer had stuffed it full of ancient warriors he planned on resurrecting at the same time in order to kill quite a few major political heads at the party going on right next to his tower of skeletal corpses so a void of power would form within Europe’s political world, one such pest was currently in Q’s office, not letting him get a single word in while pretty much calling him a useless waste of space and money, James was glowering in a corner while waiting for Alec to pick out a bloody sandwich already so he’d be silent for a few minutes.

 

“The food here is ridiculous,” Alec grumbled as he sat down, refusing to read the room and be quiet so James could continue to eavesdrop. “I mean, you’d think that the government would make sure that all the monsters they kept in their basement were fed properly—”

 

“Take this and go,” James interrupted him, shoving his wallet in Alec’s face and trying really hard not to crush his chair.

 

Alec ignored the wallet. “What’s that bastard saying now?” He asked in a small voice, trying to strain his hearing to at least catch at least an idea of a whisper.

 

“Giving the little alchemist a list of things that belonged to MI13 and we destroyed. And now he’s asking that he pay for that since he had been warned in the past about trusting us with expensive prototypes,” James muttered, grabbing his wallet back and throwing five 20 pound bills in the direction of the cafeteria chef because the chair did not survive his anger. “More than enough to cover that.”

 

He didn’t stick around to be threatened with a visit to HR or for Alec to finish his food because he’d just heard the soon to be dead bureaucrat accuse Q of being unable to control anyone and that was all he could take. No one insulted a member of this MI section and left its premises without regretting it and he certainly wouldn’t be James Bond if he sat back and allowed someone to bully a child who didn’t know when to move to another division and have a normal life.

 

Bram Stoker had been nothing more than a sour man trying to profit off getting rejected by a nymph, so his vampire mythology was very off. They had shadows and mirrors worked just fine for them. Nothing religious or holy affected them and James liked to put garlic in almost everything he ate. He did not float, he did not climb walls in a gravity defying way, he did not control animals, and he did not turn into mist, bats, rats, or any other critter. He was partially right about them needing permission, but only to warp in places and only old vampires had that ability.

 

James was ancient enough to have that ability and despite fearing him, Q gave him permission to warp in his office which is what he did with the intention of giving the pencil pusher a heart attack. He planned on smoothly _pouring_ out of the shadows, wrapping his arms around the old man and asking him if he cared to say that again while his fangs grazed his ear, but Q had learned to tell when he was in the room even though he did not see him and he covertly lifted one finger, silently ordering him to stay right where he was, his scent not changing at all from irritated to scared.

 

“I will pay as you asked,” Q said slowly, “but do not dare to say that my agents are nothing more than a bunch of wild animals that need a new handler that favours a whip in place of a civilised talk.”

 

“Civilised talks cost us lots of money and we simply cannot have a Quartermaster that can’t get his underlings to listen to simple instructions,” the old man insisted, unaware of how dead wrong he was.

 

Q took a deep breath and was very obvious in his attempts not to strangle him. “You are entitled to your own opinions – wrong as they may be – and if you wish to eject me from my current position, you will have to take it up with M.”

 

Young as he was, Q knew how to play his cards. M was older that James and no one really knew what she really was other than a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Just her presence made everyone want to arrange their clothing and sit up straighter and people knew to fear her even before she opened her mouth or looked at them. Everyone except Q, of course. The Fates were very obviously still very pissed with him over the whole stint with Clotho disaster and brought this mortal before him that feared no one else but him and now that he was back on this train of thought again, he had half a mind to ignore the order the had received.

 

But he was stopped in his tracks by the old man’s next words. “Your stubbornness to admit that you are not suited for this job will end up costing you more than your apartment and do not think for a single moment that any of these monsters will stop to mourn your loss as they would a friend. As a puppet, maybe, but as one of their equal? Never.”

 

“I do not expect them to treat me as an equal because I’m not.” The sadness radiating off of Q as he said that suffocated James. “Now, I had this job for a little over two years and in that time, I haven’t lost a single agent on active field duty or office worker, countless civilian lives have been saved, and none of the deadly agents that are currently lingering either in the shadows of my office or just outside the door haven’t ripped  you to shreds because I’ve asked them not to, but please continue to tell me how inadequate I am as the Quartermaster just because of a bill.”

 

The incredulous look on the old man’s face as he spluttered for words once he started noticing all the eyes that were watching him from the shadows was something that James would never forget and he had no control over the smile that spread on his lips as he warped back in his vast manor where he made a beeline for what Alec loved to call ‘his treasure room’.

 

***

Q sighed and, after checking his watch to make sure that he was officially off duty, finally allowed himself to rest his head on his desk. If only the day had ended before Mister Hardwire popped into his office then his head wouldn’t have hurt as much.

 

“Your car is here,” R said softly, kneeling to his right and holding out a brown bag. “The guys on the late shift ordered too much and it will spoil by the time the early shift comes in.”

 

A very obvious lie, but sweet of them nonetheless especially since it made Mister Hardwire’s earlier claims about them not caring about him completely moot. “I don’t know if this is a result of your exceptional hearing, the agents being unable to keep something to themselves despite being supernatural spies, or a combination of both, but this will be the first and only time I’ll accept food from you.”

 

R gave him a big hug, her natural smell of a forest after rain enveloping him and relaxing him to the point where he forgot that he was suffering from a migraine. “We’ll continue to feed you and you’ll continue to accept food from us because we’ll always order from your favourite restaurants.” She ran her hands up and down his back until she was sure that there was no more tension there and then stepped back, shoving the now four brown bags in his arms. “This food will spoil if you don’t take it with you and eat it.”

 

Q arched his eyebrow as he inspected the new bags. “Especially since you, as a vegetarian, bought meat.”

 

“Is that what the strange red thing is? As a vegetarian, I had no idea what I was buying because I only know what vegetables look like,” R said innocently, draping his jacket over his shoulders and trying to somehow get his messenger back over his head without strangling him.

 

She was adorable and what she and everyone else were doing was heart-warming, if a bit embarrassing. “They are not cutting that much out of my salary,” Q started to say, getting a crisp stuffed in his mouth.

 

“We all saw the papers, so don’t even try it,” she said and then quickly stuffed another crisp in his mouth to keep him from talking. “You always go out of your way to take good care of us, so it’s only normal for us to at least help feed you while you insist on paying for…” She trailed off, narrowing her eyes as she fixed a spot on the ground next to Q’s desk. “That ring isn’t your style.”

 

Following her line of sight, Q frowned as he put the bags on the ground and kneeled next to the ring. “That’s because it’s not mine.” He muttered a quick detection spell over the ring to make sure that it wasn’t cursed – he had encountered stranger things in MI13, one of the more amusing ones being a sandwich that caused Alec transforming into a giant were-poodle for an entire week and an armlet that once 009 put it on, he ended up with a shell-bra for an entire month while in merman mode – and once it passed his check, carefully picked it up.

 

It was heavy enough to be made out of actual gold and he didn’t need to ruin a window or a mirror to know that it had real diamonds embedded in it. This type of ring would be the first thing you’d notice on someone and Q couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone wearing it, but it was also so gaudy that not even the snobbiest rapper or drug dealer from this era would wear it, so he figured out pretty quick who had dropped it.

 

“Have someone drop it in 007’s locker,” he instructed R as he tossed her the ring over his shoulder.

 

“I think he’d rather have his fingers slowly plucked off rather than wear this,” R muttered, head tilted to the side. “Looks more like something 009 would wear.”

 

Q clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No fish motifs on it and you know he likes that cliché. 007, however… He’s old.” R nodded. “And he’s the type who likes to be in style, right?” R nodded again. “This ring, while very well taken care of, is very old and it looks like something that old lords used to wear. Plus, it’s exactly his size.”

 

R chuckled, holding the door open for Q. “Did you find a detective way of calling Bond an old snob?”

 

“I would never.” The little smile he had on his lips was saying the exact opposite. “I simply explained my reasoning.”

 

It was easy to put the ring out of  his mind by the time he got home half an hour later, but it seemed that the ring had other plans as it was now waiting for him in front of his door. Q cast a detection spell yet again and then a different one to see if someone had created a tracking link between himself and it just to tease him, but nothing came up. It was just a simple, old, ring.

 

An old, _valuable_ ring that mysteriously appeared near him for a second time in less than an hour and while horror movies and horror houses did nothing to him since he had become a part of the supernatural world, this made the hairs on his back stand. What if he had been wrong about whose ring that was?

 

007’s ring size was actually a very common one among men and he wasn’t the only vampire in the world that was old enough to actually have owned this at the same time. Worse still, he had met quite a few of those vampires and none of them have been on the same side as him, some even promising to cross paths with him again ‘just to ensure that Bond would never have a reason to be smug again’.

 

 _People_ he had annoyed before the government picked him up were rich enough to buy rings like those, so he decided that the best that he could do right then and there was to dash into his apartment and lock the door with keys and the most powerful spells he knew that drained him of all his stamina which resulted him in falling in a deep sleep on the sofa for an entire day as soon as he was done stuffing the food in the fridge.

 

Waking up with 007 above him, his normally blue eyes now a bright red, did nothing to his poor heart and he did not hold back with his kick or his jump, ending up in Alec’s arms like some kind of a terrified kitten that had suddenly seen a cucumber.

 

Not bothered by the bloody nose he was sporting or the awkward situation Q found himself in, 007 began interrogating him. “What happened? Were you attacked? Why didn’t you call for backup? Who did that to your neck?”

 

That last question echoed in Q’s mind and he felt his chest getting really tight, like he had a boa constrictor wrapped around him, slowly suffocating him. “Who are you to yell at me in my own home?” He sounded hollow, cold, and Alec had the decency to put him down on the ground and back away without being told. “What gives you the right to enter my home and talk to me like this?”

 

007’s attention moved away from Q’s neck only when he put the glamour back up. “I… M sent us to check up on you when you didn’t check in this morning.” His voice was softer, his eyes kinder, but his curiosity was still the same. “That’s an old wound. Who gave it to you and how?”

 

“James,” Alec said with a bit of warning in his voice, “our Quartermaster is safe. That’s what were we sent here to find out.” He turned to face the fuming Q, pretending not to take notice of the thick, long scarf he was wrapping around his neck while glaring at 007. “Are you safe?” Q gave a short not, relaxing somewhat when he saw that 007 was stepping out of the room. “Were you safe before you locked yourself in? And before you answer, let me tell you that the two mages we brought with us were more than impressed with your handiwork.”

 

“There was this ring,” Q started, face heating up. “I thought it was 007’s, but then I started doubting that because it popped up right in front of my door right after I had R drop it back his locker.”

 

Alec  hummed, shuffling over to his fridge. “Would it make you feel better if I were to tell you that, yes, the ring belongs to James and that he wanted you to use it to pay for the equipment he broke in one go with no ill intent behind it?”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” Q admitted, surprised by how at home the werewolf looked in his kitchen, cooking for him.

 

That made Alec chuckle. “He was very worried when you didn’t show up for work this morning and when he saw that the ring was still right where he left it. And when you didn’t answer the door and he felt the strong spells around the door, I really thought he was going to make a hole in the wall next to it so he could get to you,” he said carefully. “He’s not as big of a jackass as you think.”

 

A light knock on the door stopped Q before he could argue with that and he got an idea of who was at the door by how focused Alec suddenly was on stirring his hot water. The knock came again, as light as before and, with a sigh and a quick glamor check, Q opened the door and came face to face with a blue-eyed James.

 

“May I come in?” James asked in a soft voice.

 

Q’s frowns burrowed and he turned to look at Alec and see if maybe he knew what 007 was up to, but the werewolf had moved out of his line of sight. “You were in here not ten minutes ago, remember?”

 

007 nodded, looking very unnatural with the smile that had spread on his lips. “I decided that it was rude to be in someone’s house without being invited in. Although Alec seems to be more than welcomed to do just that.” The last part was muttered and Q had the distinct impression that the reason 007 was staring at a wall was because he knew where Alec was in the kitchen and he was trying to glare at him.

 

“I guess,” Q said slowly, stepping to the side to let the vampire in and careful to remain facing him at all times – a ridiculous thing to do, yes, since he could get behind him in the blink of an eye, but it made him feel at ease even though this vampire was one that fought on the same side as him. “Why are you acting so strangely?” A thought crossed through his mind and he gasped. “Did you break more equipment in the one day I was away?”

 

“Your branch is boring when you aren’t there,” said the vampire simply. “Enraging when you’re in, but I consider that the better option. May I sit down?”

 

“Look, you’re freaking me out more than usual and I don’t think I have to tell you how normally freaked I am, so stop playing whatever game you’re playing,” Q exploded, barely stopping himself from taking a step back when 007 entered his personal space and almost called out to Alec in blind panic when the vampire took his hand.

 

“I’m not playing a game, little alchemist,” 007 muttered, rubbing his thumb over Q’s knuckles, surprising him with how warm and gentle he was. “It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve caused you quite a bit of trouble, so…” He trailed off and pulled a fistful of gaudy, golden rings from his pocket and put it in Q’s hand.

 

Q made to pull his hand away and just let the gold drop on the ground, but the vampire wouldn’t let him. “Take a gift when you are offered, little alchemist,” he insisted, very obviously trying to remain serene-looking for his sake.

 

“A hard pass on my end, 007,” Q insisted. “Can you let go of my hand now?”

 

Slowly, the vampire released Q’s hand and took a step back, looking smug. “I knew I had rings and bracelets small enough to fit you.” His smile dropped instantly, no doubt picking up on the change of Q’s smell. “I don’t want you to pay for my mistakes and I promise that, moving forward, I will be more careful with what you give me.”

 

A few minutes of tense silence passed between them – Alec peered out of the kitchen at one point to see if they were still in the room and still existing – as Q mulled over the vampire’s promise and trying to figure out if he could trust it.

 

He was not dumb enough to think that the word of a human meant more than that of a supernatural creature, but he had learned at a young age to be suspicious of vampires and their promises. Actually, that lesson had been so painful that for the longest time, he hadn’t trusted _anyone_ and he had made it his goal to expose both mythological creatures and the people who aided them, wishing for nothing more than to see the world ripping itself apart.

 

The bad ones caught up with him, of course, but M had saved him and offered to help him hone his powers and better himself. She’d kept him apart from them at first, waiting for his anger and thirst for revenge to die down and for his mind to open up again and when she felt that the time was right, introduced him to the wolpertingers who were quick to adopt him and start treating him as one of their own while also grooming him to became what he was today – the Quartermaster who guided and trusted all of the agents who had proved themselves worthy of his time and brain.

 

“I still can’t accept these,” he finally said, trying to control his breathing as he finally, after personally knowing this vampire for two years and knowing _of_ him for five, turned his back to him in order to enter the bathroom. “Not to sell or to wear since they seem to be stuck.”

 

“Soap,” James whispered, sounding amazed. “Cold water and soap should do the trick,” he said louder. “Or do you want me to bring you some ice cubes?”

 

Throat dry because his back was still to the door and he feared that vampires had somehow evolved to actually walk around without a reflection since the last time he had seen 007 in a mirror, Q struggled a bit to get the words out. “I do need my fingers and they do seem to slowly be turning blue, so if you wouldn’t mind, B-Bond.”

 

Calling the vampire by a part of his name and not designation almost gave Q a heart attack, but seeing him smile in the mirror for the first time made it worth it.


	17. Please don't do this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the spirit of Halloween Month, this is a continuation of the previous chapter.

“Please, don’t do this,” James begged, trying really hard to fight off his instinct and to keep away from the bleeding lump of still living stubborn human.

 

But Q ignored him and continued to drag himself closer to him, whimpering. “I need you to be strong.”

 

“Q—”

 

“For once, do what I tell you without bitching!” Q exploded, grabbing James’ left pant leg with his bloodied hand. “I trust you.”

 

The guilt of not having prevented this, the smell, the words, the pain and desperation in Q’s voice… It was too much for James to ignore, so he lost himself in his hunger and the sweet taste.

***

It was amazing just how at home Q could look in a big bed, wearing a shirt one size too big, his hair sticking out like it had a mind of its own, and with a small frown on his face as the plot in the thick book he was currently reading took an unexpected turn.

 

“Do you want me to burn that for you?” James offered as he slid in his own bed and propped himself up on his elbow so he could still see the man beyond the bedside tables.

 

Q sighed and closed his book, taking off his glasses so he can rub his eyes. “My mind is actually on something else, which is a shame because this is my favourite book.”

 

In the three years that they had worked together – and one year on the dot since Q had gained enough courage to turn his back to him – James had grown to more than care for the young human and if there was something that bothered Q, it bothered him and he couldn’t really relax until he made things better for him

 

“What’s wrong?” James asked, suddenly sitting fully-dressed by the foot of Q’s bed, cracking his knuckles. “It’s that smart-mouthed bellboy, isn’t it? I know I should have broken his jaw the second he asked you who if you did straight bachelorette parties.” Technically speaking, that man assuming that Q was a _special companion_ was mostly on him since he was unable to wear anything else other than suits when he wasn’t in bed while Q liked to wear comfortable, colourful clothes, but James will still blame the man for daring to assume that complete opposites walking in together in a hotel room and asking for a room meant that one of them was a prostitute.

 

“It’s not that either,” Q said, quickly jumping out from under the covers to grab onto James’ arm before he could disappear from the room. “It’s the mission.”

 

“Oh.” James plopped on Q’s bed and started to undo his tie. “We’ve been idling ever since we arrived five days ago, so what’s the problem?”

 

“That’s the problem,” Q muttered, dangerously balancing on the edge of the bed while trying to grab his laptop because he was too lazy to get out. James decided that seeing this man fall on his face and breaking his nose would be less funny that the time he saw their chief of staff doing that, so he grabbed Q by the back of his shirt – tried his best not to stare where he knew the still mysterious scars were hidden by very good glamour – and dragged him back in bed before placing the laptop in his lap a second later. “Thank you. Now, according to the intel we had, this mission should have ended three days ago.”

 

Normally, James tried to finish his missions as fast as possible so he could go back to either studying humanity – which Alec said that was nothing more than brooding in different bars because it got him laid almost all the time – travelling all over the world with Alec to see how the countries had changed since ‘the days of yore’, or go back to Skyfall to simply exist in between those ancient walls, but ever since someone within MI13 – M – thought that the Quartermaster getting more field time would result in his magic becoming stronger and started coupling up with him to make sure that he was protected, James found that he preferred those missions running longer.

 

Up until Q expressed his concern about their current mission, it had been his favourite one by far since they mostly walked visited old museums and buildings in the little town, ate together, shared a room at night, and no creature tried to kill either one of them. What made things even better was the fact that they were doing everything on MI13 funds and that wasn’t because James was some kind of Scrooge, but because Q was a stubborn little alchemist who refused to accept any of the vampire’s money.

 

But now that Q was worried, James hated this mission. “Could it be that our original intel was wrong?” James asked hopefully, holding back from leaning over Q’s shoulder because, although he was now more than okay with turning his back to him and had stopped suffering a silent mild-heart attack whenever he was near him, he was still very reserved about having a creature – especially a vampire – near his neck scars that he still kept hidden under a glamor spell.

 

“Doubtful,” Q muttered, sucking on his lower lip for a moment before turning the laptop for James to see. “Since your train of thought proves that you have, yet again, forgotten to read the mission report, the contact is someone who has never led us astray and all the coroner reports that we were provided with indicate that a vampire is active in this area.”

 

James shrugged. “There’s nothing in here that would indicate a need for MI13 to get involved.” He gave Q his laptop back and decided to dare to lean back in his bed, unsure if he should be happy that he had reached five in his head and he still hadn’t gotten kicked out of bed or worried by that.

 

“Due to the modus operandi described, I requested it,” Q admitted in a whisper after a moment, not looking up from his laptop.

 

There was little doubt in James’ mind that this was tied to Q’s hidden wound, especially if M agreed to his request. Q’s fear and apprehension of him also made much more sense now and he wanted to kick himself for needing so much time to put two and two together, especially since he had gotten a decent look of the scar and it was easy to tell that it had been left behind by something with sharp fangs and claws that wasn’t neither werewolf as he was still alive and if a werewolf – or any variation of that mythological creature – went for your throat, there was no coming back from that unless you had a really strong healer nearby and the marks left behind were too small for that to have happened – nor any creature of the sea as, again, the marks did not match, and those liked to drag their prey underwater before going for any vital spots.

 

Struck by this realization, James easily pulled himself from Q’s bed, but was frozen in place by the faint change in Q’s scent – he was beginning to be afraid again and it was now making him nauseous. Acting on a hunch, James pretended that he had gotten up to simply toss his jacket on his own bed before sitting back down on Q’s, happily noting that the second he did that, Q’s scent went back to normal.

 

“Young vampires are known to emulate the older ones, so maybe this was the case here, the young vampire running away the second he caught wind that MI13 is on his case,” James reasoned, closing Q’s laptop for him and seeing how displeased he looked. “As you’ve no doubt already contacted our oh so trustworthy source that keeps telling us to wait, I’ll accompany you tomorrow morning when you visit them to make sure that they are okay and then I’ll go on a solo recon mission at night to see if what we’ve been told is true or just a ruse to keep us distracted from other missions,” he acquiesced since there was no way that he could ask in good conscience for the mission to be taken over by a local team in good conscience.

 

He had also hoped that it would get Q to return to his book, but the man hoped out of the bed and made a beeline for the luggage that contained their equipment, commandeering James’ bed for his makeshift desk. “I have unofficially packed a few extra things—”

 

“So when we get back, M will say that I rubbed off on you instead of the other way around and have my head,” James muttered, trying to sound annoyed instead of proud.

 

“—but for which I got approval from the Chief of Staff,” Q finished, throwing James a glare over his shoulder which James missed because he couldn’t quite wrap his head around something being unofficial if an official said that it was okay. “As it wasn’t an emergency, I took the route that spared me any unnecessary paperwork. You do know what paperwork is right?”

 

James shrugged and got more comfortable on top of the covers. “It sounds familiar, but can’t say that I do.”

 

“It’s that thing you always expect me to do at the end of all of your missions because you claim to have forgotten how to write things,” Q snapped, throwing a pillow at James’ head, a testament of how familiar and he had gotten with the vampire, James never missing a chance to rub that in 009’s face. “Are we switching beds? Because yours is lumpy and I don’t like it.”

 

James perked up, knowing that it was a lie but also not missing the subtext – what we talked about and what I revealed has put me on edge and I want to _feel_ my guaranteed safety. “The sofa is worse than that, but your bed is big enough for two.” Not really, at least, not the way Q slept.

 

James saw creatures more limbs than a human sleep more normal than Q did. Due to the nature of his job and the fact that he was a workaholic, Q tended to fall asleep right where you left him and then wondered the following day why his back hurt or why he had a crick in his neck. As such, when Q was presented with a bed in a safe environment, he spread out on it like a well-fed kraken, spending the first five minutes stretching and cracking every bone he could and James found himself many times wondering just how Q would feel if he were to receive a massage from a professional, but held back from acting upon that curiosity.

 

“I kick,” Q warned as he got under the covers, trying his best not to touch James.

 

“I’ll try not to break your stick legs with my muscles, although I am much more worried about your hair attacking me in my sleep,” James joked, snorting when he got hit over the head with a pillow.

 

It didn’t take long for Q to fall asleep and turn into a gluttonous octopus, although James’ amusement was short lived as Q’s dream devolved into a nightmare and he curled in on himself, covering his neck, and whimpering.

 

This was a first and James didn’t really know what to do other than push himself even closer to Q and when that didn’t work, turned around and wrapped himself around him, gently rubbing Q’s arms and assuring him that everything was okay and that he was safe until the whimpers died down and his muscles relaxed again. Now this was his cu to pull back and pretend that nothing had happened, but not only was he afraid that the night terrors would return to haunt Q, the felt drunk of the other’s warmness and surprising softness.

 

Over the decades, he had shared his bed with many, but fell asleep with only a few and fewer still were privy to enjoying that for more than a week. He had long accepted the creature he was and he did not fear that he would suddenly lose control and decide on a fatal midnight snack, but he preferred to keep everyone at arm’s length due to the fact that most of his partners – be they male or female – were mortal and he couldn’t allow himself to suffer each and every time one of them was lost as two times had already been enough and he was not a masochist.

 

But Q was different. What he was doing now was different since he wasn’t sleeping with the man and he was deadest on lying to himself that when Q died a good dead, he won’t feel a thing.

 

***

Though he was slow to wake up, Q knew right away that he was currently using James as a pillow and he was in no rush to change that. He was soft despite his muscles, he was warm despite being a vampire, he was trustworthy despite being what he was, and he felt way too good to be bothered by M’s warning.

 

The second he decided to trust James enough to show him his back, the woman somehow knew and she was at his door pretty much a minute after Alec and James had left, the look in her eyes kinder than usual and mixed with a hint of worry – it was a really scary visage and Q wondered for a moment if maybe everyone at MI13 had died because he had been passed out for an entire day.

 

“Tea,” she said in lieu of a greeting as she gracefully sat down on the armchair in Q’s living room, two steaming cups of tea appearing out of nowhere on the table before her. “And some crumpets to go with it.” And there were the crumpets, right next to the tea, looking inviting and delicious and like they had always been there. “006 was never good when it came to desserts and you will grow to learn that after exerting so much of your magical powers, sugar will be your friend.”

 

They ate and drank in silence, none of those tasting like something that existed in the real world as nothing reminded him of the safety and happiness of his childhood home as those crumpets did and nothing soothed his soul as the tea did, not even the handful of anxiety pills he had been prescribed.

 

“I am happy to see that 007 was exaggerating, as usual,” M said quietly as soon as she was done with her tea, not blinking as she carefully studied Q – she could easily see through whatever glamor Q put up, but she had been there before he learned proper magic, so she knew what he was hiding.

 

“Was he?” He shyly asked, playing with his teacup to keep his hands busy with something else and away from the scarf he was still wearing.

 

M hummed and nodded. “Much like the day he met you, he perfectly imitated a paranoid man that was sure the world was ending because of you.” Her words hurt a little, even though Q was aware that they shouldn’t. It made sense for someone like the ancient creature to dislike being forced to entrust a young human with his safety, but he had hoped that he had proved that he knew what he was doing enough times to get the vampire to stop seeing him as anaemic version of one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. “But for a different reason this time: the end of the world was to come because you weren’t there.”

 

A warm feeling spread through Q’s entire body and he made a mental note to pair the vampire up with some of his minions to ensure that he wouldn’t cause a rupture between the agent and his department further down the line when he would no longer be a Quartermaster.

 

“I should consider that to be a good thing, but this is 007 we are talking about so I’m more worried than at ease,” M confessed, the looks she was giving Q making him want to squirm in his seat. “Immortal beings tend to focus on something shiny every now and then, but keep in mind that time moves differently for them and that they lose interest when something new appears, uncaring that they might break hearts when they do that. But I’m truly glad that you are trying to stop treating him like someone who might stab you in the back because, although he is many things, a traitor he is not.”

 

It sounded like she was telling him to keep away, which was something that didn’t happen mostly because James seemed to be hell bent on that not happening – although it took 009 pointing that out to Q for him to notice it, which spoke lengths about how good of an agent the vampire could be. He wasn’t pushy, he wasn’t suffocating, he wasn’t invading Q’s personal space, and he stopped very obviously lingering in the shadows around Q when he wasn’t welcomed and the thing that finally fully tipped the scales in James’ favour happened during a mission that was running longer than it was supposed to and he brought him a bag full of warm pastries and a large mug of hot tea done just as he liked it.

 

That didn’t mean he fully felt at ease when he had no other choice but to team up with James for his first field mission. M had planned for 008 to be his partner, but the Naga had something very urgent to take care of back in his home country. All of her next choices were also suddenly missing and James just happened to be in her office because he was suddenly very interested in the bottles of scotch she had in her desk, despite normally proclaiming them to be an insult to his taste buds.

 

M considered sending another boffin on the mission, but Q refused to allow that to happen, saying that they really didn’t have the time to change anything and that the mission was much too sensible to have someone who wasn’t a technological genius on top of being a mage, going on to say that he thought James would be the better choice for this mission anyway given the location.

 

The hotel they were in right now was the Buckingham Palace compared to that first one in which the room was so small that they barely had any place between the beds, but given how comfortable James felt under him and how surprisingly warm he was, Q wouldn’t mind if they always got booked in even smaller rooms if that meant they could share a bed.

 

“For what hour did you set up the meeting and where?” James sleepily asked.

 

“Ten at the city’s main library,” Q replied, sounding equally sleepy. He really didn’t want to leave the bed right now.

 

“It’s seven, so we can sleep some more,” James murmured as he put his hand on top of Q’s head and gently patted him. “Get this overactive organ of yours to pipe down and close your eyes. Sleep will claim you right away.”

 

It wasn’t that easy. He was reminded about this mission. He was worried. He was wondering what would happen if his hunch was right. But what about if it was wrong? James’ arm had found its way around his middle and M’s voice was back in his head. “Am I your shiny object for this?”

 

James opened one eye and peered down at Q, slipping his fingers in his hair and starting to gently massage his scalp. “I’ll grant that you are paler than others, but I wouldn’t say that you’re shiny, an object, or mine, so what sort of question is that?”

 

“A random one, I admit.” His eyelids were getting heavier and he felt like he was floating on a cloud. “It’s actually something that M told me a while ago.”

 

“That woman talks too much and says nothing of value,” he grumbled. “Put that out of your mind and ignore about 99% of what she says. No, scratch that; ignore _everything_ she says.”

 

Q let out a lazy laugh and struggled to open his eyes. “She’s my boss.”

 

“Even more of a reason to do that,” James insisted, using his other hand to massage Q’s temples, blocking his view. “I guarantee less headaches and more satisfaction.”

 

He carried on talking for a while longer, but with every word he said, he sounded like he was getting further and further away and Q lost his interest in what he was talking about and in his own thoughts, happy to simply get lost in the fuzziness of his own mind even though he was aware on a not that deep of a subconscious level that this was the calm before the storm.

 

***

The whole mission had gone to hell the second Q’s trusted source changed the meeting spot and the hour. Now Q was mortal, young, and human, but he wasn’t stupid and he knew that something was up when that happened and while he was loyal, he understood when there was no choice but to make a sacrifice was the greater good.

 

However, in this case, he had no choice but to walk right into that trap as the message they had received was worded in such a way that it implied the town would be wiped off the face of the earth in the slowest, most painful way possible after which the entirety of London would follow.

 

“I trust you to keep us safe,” Q had added with a confident smile on his hand and with a light squeeze of his hand before walking out of that library, unaware that his words actually scared James.

 

His desire to make Q stop being afraid of him had backfired in the most horrible way possible because blind trust in someone who pretty much lived on a mountain of corpses was a very bad idea. And yet, James couldn’t bring himself to point that out to Q because his smile was too bright and he didn’t want him to stop looking at him the way he did.

 

Naturally, the shit hit the fan as expected the second they stepped in the warehouse, mindless, lower-class shadow creatures attacking them, James noting that they weren’t exactly going for the kill when Q was involved and that it seemed like they were instructed to separate them – as if he was going to allow that.

 

Q had also caught on to the fact that whoever was behind this needed him alive, but also that they preferred James to be dead, so he made sure to use himself as a shield while he fried light spell after light spell, ignoring how harder it was for him to breathe and the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

 

“Backup—”

 

“Requested before we left the library,” Q interrupted James, sitting back to back as a mass of darkness, sharp claws, and fangs circled around them.

 

James huffed, ripping a tendril that got too close to him. “Given that we’ve been at this for half an hour, it’s safe to say that the locals care little for what happens to a couple of British agents.” Or worse still, the whole town was in on this and they had long walked into a trap which was just now starting to kill them. “What do we do?”

 

“I also let MI13 know that we might be in a spot of trouble,” Q panted, the light spell he let out weaker than before.

 

Soon, it would be nothing more than a little, harmless spark of light and whoever was behind this would get what they wanted. Now, according to any and all MI protocol, that had to be stopped at any cost, even that of a high ranking officer. A ridiculous rule that James put out of his mind as soon as it had enter since his hands will never find their way around Q to hurt him and his gun will never be pointed at any part of his body with the intent of killing.

 

“So we hold out until they get here which will be in about 3 hours,” was the only feasible conclusion James  could reach.

 

“We won’t last that long, so you have to—”

 

“We hold out and you stop thinking of stupid things, little alchemist,” James stubbornly insisted.

 

The unavoidable, however, truly cannot be avoided for too long – thus the term – and though the shadow mass had been greatly reduced, they were separated ten minutes after James refused to kill Q and a few seconds after that, just as James had been brought to his knees and his chest slashed open, the warehouse got drowned in the smell of Q’s fear. That, combined with his own fear of the suffering that his Quartermaster might go through should he give up and allow himself to be ripped to shreds, convinced him to  summon the true monster within him since there was no possible way to harm Q now and in a flurry of ripped arms and dark liquid that acted as blood for the shadow creatures, James found himself clawing at a thick steal gate.

 

He didn’t know for how long he had tried to open the blasted thing, but  sometime between him trying to regenerate his fingers for a fourth time with no proper food source around him and demands for anyone from MI13 to help him save his Quartermaster, the doors were opened and he was greeted with Q’s collapsed whimpering form next to the door, a pile of ashes that must have been their enemy a few feet away from him.

 

 While normally he would have felt pride at Q had done, due to his massive blood loss, all James felt was primal hunger. “Close the doors,” he growled, trying to force himself to move back, covering his nose to lessen the smell of blood.

 

“You’re dying,” Q said, opting to state the obvious instead of being smart. “Come here,” he instructed, holding out one of his arms.

 

James quickly shook his head and took a step back. “I’ll close them and you should be safe until MI13 gets here.”

 

“I’ll die until they actually get to me given your current state,” Q chocked out. “Come here.”

 

“Please, don’t do this,” James begged, trying really hard to fight off his instinct and to keep away from the bleeding lump of still living stubborn human.

 

But Q ignored him and continued to drag himself closer to him, whimpering. “I need you to be strong.”

 

“Q—”

 

“For once, do what I tell you without bitching!” Q exploded, grabbing James’ left pant leg with his bloodied hand. “I trust you.”

 

The guilt of not having prevented this, the smell, the words, the pain and desperation in Q’s voice… It was too much for James to ignore, so he lost himself in his hunger and the sweet taste.

 

The sounds of the world around him died down until he could only hear something that sounded like a drum. And with that maddened drumming came images of which he could only really focus on a tall, pale woman with brown hair and a kind smile that smelled of lavender and of a man with curly hair and a red bowtie happily explaining a very complicated drawing. They seemed familiar and he felt very deep affection for them despite him not really knowing them.

 

When the drumming slowed down quite a lot, the images came to his mind in a lesser number and they were darker, like photographs that had been exposed to fire. The woman was older as was the man, he saw more familiar strangers and more complicated graphs and drawings that were done in a handwriting he was sure he knew very well and then a decrepit creature dressed in a purple velvet suit towered above him, the bonny fingers he so proudly held before him like he was showing how shiny his long, sharp nails were looked more like a murderous psychopath asking his victim to choose the knife they’ll get slashed with.

 

The thing glided towards him, his smile getting bigger as he said something that he couldn’t quite hear and he was confused that he didn’t feel any pain when it very obviously and very violently bit down on his neck, the drum almost completely inaudible now.

 

He thought that was a good thing because the monster was slowly starting to disappear and then an image of himself grinning flashed before him and he suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing and he pulled away from the barely living Q like he had been burned, stabbed, and shot all at the same time.

 

Q’s crumbled form on the ground was going to haunt James for all eternity and he couldn’t even bring himself to blink, let alone gather Q up in his arms lest he further damaged the frail human. Not that he had a lot to live given that James had almost drained him of his blood which raised the very grim question of what he should do: watch Q die or rob him of his humanity by offering him immortality?

 

“James, snap out of it!” Alec ordered and James whirled around, shocked by the gun that was pointed at him. How long had they been fighting if Alec had gotten here? Had he been the closest agent to them? Was his mission over or did he compromise it to get to them? “Good, now back away and let the medical crew handle this.”

 

He complied without a single second’s hesitation and Alec carefully guided him out of the building to a helicopter in which M was waiting with a disapproving look and a tumbler of warm scotch which she almost threw at his head. She ordered him in to sit next to her without saying anything and Alec closed the door behind him after patting his leg, assuring him without words that he will make sure that nothing ill befell Q while he was around.

 

“I’d like to cash in on a few of my vacation days,” James said quietly 30 minutes into their ride, the temperature dropping a few degrees tipping him off that M disapproved of his plan completely.

 

“Whether you’re still an active agent after today is up for debate so I wouldn’t worry about having to show up at MI13 tomorrow,” she said, her voice somehow drowning out the noise of the helicopter even though it was not raised. “I do expect a detailed report of what happened here on my desk by tomorrow. And, 007? I wouldn’t recommend being late with this one.”

 

James nodded, feeling his heart shrink in his chest.


	18. I almost lost you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the vampire story.

“I almost lost you,” James whispered as he gazed at Q’s security badge photo. “I don’t know on whom I’m angrier: myself for getting lost in your intoxicating blood or M for not finding a way to force you back into a normal life.”

“And I don’t know what creeps me out more,” Alec chimed in from the doorframe, his inner werewolf wagging its tail at the fact that he had made the great vampire flinch. “You having Q’s missing badge that he’s been searching for the past three months or you talking with that badge as if it was Q himself?”

“Don’t you know how to knock?” James snarled, quickly pocketing the badge.

Alec hummed, throwing himself on the very comfortable – and expensive – sofa. “I wasn’t sure you’d hear me over the depressing pipe organ you had accompanying your whining in your head.”

James was seriously tempted to throw his glass at Alec’s head, but the nosy werewolf wasn’t worth wasting such a fine and old crystal. “Are you letting M treat you like a lapdog now?”

Alec snorted and moved up a little so he could bring his dirty shoes on the sofa, changeling James with a look to come and kick them off. “Never for that ancient witch or whatever she is. For little alchemists that have turned into a giant worry wart who decided that sleeping and eating is for the weak? Always.”

“We both know that he won’t last longer than three days with that type of schedule so you can quit this dirty play,” James said dismissively, ignoring the fact that he knew very well that Q was a workaholic even during those peaceful moments that MI13 experienced every now and then.

“Denial doesn’t suit you at all, James,” Alec murmured. “We both know how he is on a normal day, but can you imagine him now that his favourite agent is missing? And don’t you dare insult me by pretending that you aren’t his favourite,” Alec said in an almost growl, clearly fighting back the urge to give James a piece of his mind in his wolf form.

But James was honestly surprised to hear Alec’s accusation about Q still favouring him and only kept his mouth shut because it was clear that Alec was not in the mood for their usual banter. Still, James was pretty sure that after the whole almost draining him of all of his blood and accidentally intruding on his deepest, darkest secret, Q wouldn’t want anything around him to remind him of James, let alone to see James himself. 

At least he couldn’t bear to look at himself or the flesh and blood Q right now. “Tell him that I’m fine then and that little children shouldn’t stay up passed their bedtime unless they want M to be angry with them.” He rested his hand over the pocket in which he had the badge and glared at Alec’s extended hand. “That stays with me. I’ve lost mine and I don’t feel like putting up with M’s ranting while I get a new one. But this,” he continued, suddenly holding a little silk bag in front of Alec, the drapes around the windows and the chandelier moving a little as the room settled around James’ settling back within the normal flow of the world. “This you can give to Q. To pay for a new badge and for the clothes I ruined when I...” He trailed off, mouth suddenly going dry. 

He had warned Q that he was dangerous in that state but Q – silly, stupid, trusting, perfect Q – had smiled and just let him feed off of him despite what he had experienced when he had been younger and he let him down. He proved to Q that he was nothing more than a monster and just couldn’t face him.

Alec thankfully took the bag without saying anything and left James to his shameful sulking.

***  
Every time he blinked, he felt the world go into a mad spin around him. He was quite proud that he had mastered the art of walking only when his eyes were open, but he had to give credit to his nosy little minions who forced to do that after they all started to look at him really carefully after he almost collapsed because he had bent down to pick his pen.

“Quartermaster, did you forget you had a meeting with 009 scheduled for five minutes ago?” R called out and Q turned around to face as quickly as he could without getting dizzy.

Catching his reflection in a monitor behind her, Q was pretty sure that he had forgotten to even brush his hair – but he wasn’t about to fumble in his Oscar-worthy performance of a functional human being by admitting that. “I would never,” he said, trying to sound a little bit insulted. “I was just doing a little check-up before the meeting to be sure that there weren’t going to be any little mishaps that might distract me during the meeting.” Not that he could remember what the meeting was about, but he was sure he could wing it until 009 gave it away.

“Right,” R said slowly, letting that ‘r’ roll of her tongue. “Well, I’ll hold down the fort like you know I always do while you’re in the meeting, so don’t worry,” she continued as she pushed Q back in his office with so much strength that if 009 wasn’t waiting right in behind the door, he would have fallen face first into his desk.

Odd behaviour on her part, yes, but Q was much too tired to try and figure out why. “Sorry for being late and thank you for breaking my fall,” he addressed 009, confused as to why he was being led to the sofa. 

But was it really that bad to be on the soft sofa instead of the stiff chair? And he supposed that the crick in his back would go away if he laid down properly on the sofa and stretched for a few minutes. 009 wouldn’t mind if he did that; hell, he’d seen them do stranger things, so none of them could judge him or feel insulted. And the room was much too bright for him to keep fighting the headache, but he was sure that he’d get control over everything again if he simply closed his eyes for a few moments and—

“Son of a bitch sang me to sleep again,” Q growled the next time he opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of his apartment.

He quickly kicked the covers off – sighing in relief that he was still wearing his loose fitting suit, sans jacket that had been neatly folded and placed on his ‘clothing chair’ and shoes that he almost tripped over when he jumped out of bed – and looked for his phone, sighing in resignation after reading M’s text about him being put on forced leave for two weeks and crumbling the sticky note that had been left on top of it that had a short apology in which he was assured that it was for his own good and that they have no issues with visiting HR for what they did.

Of course he knew it was for his own good, especially after he saw a picture of how he looked that R snapped right before he was compelled to go to sleep, but it irked him that he not only allowed himself to get to that point when the bags under his eyes were so big that he looked like he had lost a boxing match but also in which he was so tired that couldn’t tell when his own department was scheming against him and that he was most definitely more of a hindrance to them than anything else all because he couldn’t let go of one bloody agent who was well known for taking off whenever it suited him only to return when he was truly needed by the world.

Well, truthfully, he couldn’t really blame Bond for this. His stubbornness was to blame for everything and he didn’t need to waste a single second on a psychiatrist to tell him that. He might need one to help him find a way to stop doing that – among other things – and he suspected that most of the sessions would be spent trying to do just that, but he was much too stubborn to accept that help. 

If he got over his whole vampire issue on his own, then he could get over his abandonment issues. He was a clever boy, after all and he’ll probably get an idea after he was done with his extra-long shower – which, now that he thought about, should have been a bath – and with his first actual breakfast – ordered from his favourite restaurant because he didn’t do cooking; he did accidental kitchen fire – in a long while.

A knock came at the door just as he sat down on his comfortable armchair with a plate full of sweet and sour chicken while wearing his fluffiest bathrobe and really, wasn’t that his whole life in one picture?

With another sigh, he dragged himself to the door, disappointed to see that it was Alec. “I’m not supposed to be working,” Q said in lieu of a greeting, stepping to the side to let Alec enter and quickly grabbing his plate when he saw the werewolf lick his lips. “I’m not sharing my food. Phone and menu are next to you, so feel free to order if you want anything. They move surprisingly fast.”

“James’ treat, so what do you recommend?” Alec asked, tossing a little silk bag in Q’s direction.

Q was so shocked to hear that name that he was actually hit in the face with it and after he rearranged his glasses he throw his fuzzy slipper at Alec’s head when he started to laugh. “I have virtually no depth perception, so don’t laugh.” He turned his glare back to the bag, its mere existence before him making him feel cheap. 

Here he was, worrying and overworking himself and James was probably kicking it off somewhere on a beach, not getting turned into a pile of ashes, with his usual sexual buffet of beautiful, flexible women.

“To cover the cost of your lost badge since James’ the one who made it lost and for new clothes and whatever,” Alec explained, having abandoned the menu in favour of ever so slightly edging closer to the plate. “Your food is getting—”

“Then eat it,” Q snarled, grabbing the coin bag off the ground and stomping into his bedroom. 

“I only wanted a little nibble,” Alec said, quickly walking in after Q. “I didn’t mean to upset—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Q interrupted him, pulling a suitcase from under the bed, opening it, and then starting to throw various articles of clothing in it. “It’s that pompous bastard of a vampire!” He pushed Alec out of his way and grabbed his personal laptop, almost tripping himself with the charger. “Where is he now?”

“At his family estate in Scotland,” Alec said slowly and Q felt the tips of his ears start to burn in anger. “Are you planning to go down there?”

“Well, I can’t shove all these coins down his damned throat and shove that ring up his ass all the way from London if he’s there, now can I? And what’s his fixation with giving me gaudy rings?” Q asked with a huff, throwing the suitcase in Alec’s arms and then pushing him out of the room. “Write the address down while I change and don’t you dare tip your flying rodent that I’ll drop by or you’ll get a very special visit to the vet. Don’t forget that I know spells that can turn you into a little Chihuahua.” Spells like that existed, but they drained him of energy and it was said that it also ate up two years of a your life in one minute so Q never actually cast one, but Alec could be decent enough to pretend that he believed him.

Alec pushed his foot forward and stopped the door just as Q was slamming it shut, flinching as he did that. “James’ estate is pretty tricky to find since old royals liked to be properly separated from peasants, so why don’t I drive you up there myself?”

***  
The angry knocking that started in the middle of the night, just as he was getting to the good part of the book made James think of the old monster movies in which the townsfolk formed a mob and then stormed the creature’s castle with pitchforks and torches. It didn’t send shivers down his spine since he never had that happen to him – Scotland had more chill towards the upper class eccentrics than the folk in Romania – but it still put a metaphorical fire under his ass and he rushed to open the doors before they got kicked down.

“And I’ll dance the polka on your grave!” Q exploded seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing the glass of wine James was holding and pushing into the house right passed him, not even a hint of fear underneath all the anger that rolled off of him.

“He started the argument with you back in London 9 hours ago,” Alec explained as he too entered the house without being invited, a suitcase under his arm. “I’ll set him up in one of your guestrooms while you go hide all your sharp objects because I don’t think anything will appease him except your blood.”

James waited a few more seconds to make sure that he didn’t have any more uninvited guests before closing the door and quickly walking in after Q, slowing down when he was just a step behind him, wracking his brain for something to say.

Luckily, Q was the one who broke the tense silence. “Where the bloody hell am I going?”

“If you keep going in a straight line, you’ll end up in the winter garden,” James said, choosing to make sure a painting was indeed hanging straight on the wall over meeting Q’s eyes. “I do recommend making a left if you’re hungry as the kitchen is through there. Did you and Alec stop anywhere to eat?”

Q’s stomach answered for him. “Food doesn’t sound that bad right now,” he admitted. “You go first since I’m sure I’ll somehow find a way to get lost.”

They continued to walk in silence and they ate in silence, Alec joining them for only ten minutes to lick a plate clean before excusing himself, claiming that the tension was giving him indigestion and hissing at James on his way out to find a way to appease Q or else he will be the first to drive a nail in the coffin that the boffin bunch were probably making just for him.

Not really knowing what to do, James set Q off when he slid him his badge face down, forgetting that all badges looked the same upside down which made Q thinking that he had decided to quit.

“Did I ruin whatever bloody game you’ve been playing for the past four months by finding out where you live?” Q hissed, angrily grabbing James’ plate even though he still had food on it. “Because if I did, then let me tell you that this is the happiest I felt in months,” he went on without letting James get a word in, angrily scrubbing the plates for a moment before turning around to continue chewing James out. “Is the reason you want to leave because I screwed up as a Quartermaster? Or was my blood such an insult to your refined ancient self that you thought the best way to get back at me for something that isn’t in my control is to make me worry and then silently quit?”

James silently turned the badge up to show Q that it belonged to him, quickly moving to block his way. “What’s kept me away is the fact that I hurt you,” he said softly, eyes falling to Q’s neck, the still scarred tissue present there making him want to pull his fangs out. “Does it still hurt?”

“You not checking in to let us know you were okay so 009 wouldn’t have to sing me to sleep?” Q snipped, fighting off his embarrassment.

“No,” James said slowly, trying not focus on his increasing hate for the slimy merman. “Your neck. Does your neck still hurt?”

Q frowned, placing his hand on the back of his neck and starting to roll it like he was trying to crack his bones. “I mean there’s still a crick in there from falling asleep on my chair last week, but—”

“Where I maimed you,” James snapped, running a hand down his face. “Let’s just start looking for the room Alec put you in if you feel like you can sleep under the same roof as me.”

He made to walk away, but Q grabbed his arm and stopped him. “James, it never hurt. It was quite pleasant,” he admitted in half a voice, avoiding James’ eyes. “Does that make me weird?”

“No,” James was quick to assure him, finally feeling the invisible cold claw dislodging itself from his heart. “A vampire normally does his best not inflict any pain on the person he’s feeding off of, but I wasn’t sure I did that in the state I was. I thought that made you relive the thing I should have seen on top of dropping you off on death’s door and that made me feel things I haven’t acknowledged in years, so keeping my distance seemed like the best thing to do.” He sensed Q tensing up, but he didn’t regret coming clean about that.

“What that thing did,” Q started, throat going dry instantly and unable to ignore his need to hide the glamoured part of his neck under his hand, “marked me deeply in all the possible ways. Its mark will always be on my neck, its words always with me at my weakest points, but you are not it. You were careful even while lost in bloodlust and Alec told me that you struggled to keep me living when you finally snapped out of it. Your mark will heal and disappear on its own and the reason why I’m not hiding it isn’t because I want you to be hurt by it, but because it doesn’t bother me. It hurt me more that you completely cut ties with me without so much as a goodbye. But I now understand why.”

“I never meant to hurt you.” James took a step closer and carefully cupped the side of Q’s that bore his mark. “It’s still healing, yes, but there will probably still be two small dots on your neck if left on its own.”

“And if they’re helped?” Q asked in a whisper, resting his hand on top of James to trap the man there. “I’ve been told that your saliva has a special healing factor that’s lost when tried to replicate or if it’s kept out of your mouth for too long.”

James snorted, tugging Q closer to his chest, letting his sweet and minty smell of excitement and arousal wash over him. “You have the most curious bedroom talk I have ever heard, little alchemist, but I’d be more than happy to assist you with your little experiment,” he purred. 

Q’s cheeks slowly turned red and James moved his hand to gently caress them only to have Q slip out of his grasp. “I have no idea how much I slept after 009’s little concert and my mind is all over the place, so let me keep whatever semblance of dignity I have left after my entrance and forget I said anything?”

Golden opportunity missed and Q insulted once again, James wondered what had happened to that smooth vampire that could look his way into someone’s bed. “It mirrored my own entrance in your apartment which was ten times more dramatic, with hissing and growling and mage threatening if they didn’t break your spells faster, so no dignity lost there or in what you said,” James assured him, resting his hand on Q’s lower back. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping as well since I’ve grown accustomed to a little alchemist making all sort of noises in his sleep, so would you terribly mind if we share my room and my bed? Plus, Alec probably buried your luggage in my backyard and that’s even bigger than this mansion.”

The left corner of Q’s lips twitched.


	19. Wanna bet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might write another chapter for this idea, not sure yet.

“Wanna bet?” A tanned man asked in a thick accent that James couldn’t discern.

 

Given the way he was dressed and where James was, he assumed that the man was asking him if he wanted to gamble and while he enjoyed a good game of poker or blackjack even in the middle of a missing since it usually helped get things moving, but he suspected that this time, it would only delay everything and not gain him any favours with the master of this place.

 

“I’m good,” James dismissed him with a smile on his face, relieved that the man understood and retreated back in one of the many neat single floor brick buildings that were tastefully decorated in little flashing lights that advertised what they were for in Morse code.

 

He continued to walk down the sturdy wooden bridge that acted as this underground city’s main street, careful not to bump into any of the waiters that carried trays full of crystal glasses of champagne or exotic looking food which reminded his stomach that it had been three days since he last had a decent meal.

 

“You look like the kind of man who would more than welcome a kind woman’s company,” someone purred in his ear wrapping her slender arms around him with little care for the fact that his dust covered clothes were ruining her silk black dress. “No need to fuss or cause a scene, Mister Bond; violence is prohibited in here,” the beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes assured him when she felt him tense under her touch, waiving the few bulky waiters that had started to advance towards them at a brisk pace.

 

“Do not take this as an insult, madam, but I’m afraid that a man in my condition is unable to enjoy your company or food,” James said carefully, the feeling of being watched burning in the back of his head even if it seemed like everyone had gone back to minding their own business.

 

The woman chuckled and continued to remain anchored to James. “Newcomers always assume that all the pretty ladies in the pretty dresses are courtesans.” She took a sharp turn that looked like it appeared out of nowhere due to the three potted trees and practically tossed James in the arms of two older women that reminded him of the nurses who usually handled him when he was under MI6’s Medical care. “You need a good shower and some new clothes before we feed you, Mister Bond, so play nice and continue to accept our hospitality.”

 

Digging his heels into the marble floor, James kept his aged handlers from forcing him into the large tub in the middle of the room and attempted to pretend like he was still somewhat on top of everything by calling out after the woman.  “Might I know the name of my oh so kind host?”

 

“That is not mine to give, but you may call me R,” she said mysteriously, patting his cheeks before leaving the hidden bathhouse.

 

If he had any doubt about the fact that he had been _let_ in this private world before, then it was crystal clear now that he was at the mercy of whoever ran this place.

 

***

The suit he had been given fit him perfectly and it was a much more expensive version of what he usually wore which set off all kind of alarms in his mind that he had no problem ignoring, even though he reached for the gun he no longer had every time someone glanced at him.

 

Still, he allowed himself to be amazed and impressed by the underground city. It was lively, it was clean, the he had yet to see a single rat casually swimming in the water over which the city was built – although he suspected the large cat population had a metaphorical hand in that – there were actual trees and bushes and flowers, and even the air felt cleaner than in the actual city under which this place existed.

 

Now how nobody knew this place existed was a complete mystery to him. The electrical consumption had to me astronomical given the fact that the underground city reminded James of a miniature Las Vegs, he saw no actual living quarters for the workers so that meant that there were a lot of cars driving to and from this place, the guests drank enough alcohol to randomly grab on to him and start giving him out their credit card information alongside promises of a lot of money if he only played for them, and the food looked and smelled like it was freshly made, so even if he were to ignore the mystery of how the workers got there, he couldn’t do that when it came to this place getting its supplies.

 

His two elderly caretakers came to a sudden stop in front of two massive wooden doors that had an intricate carving of Bastet two hundred meters from where the last brick house was, James figuring out on his own that he was expected to go in.

 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to embarrass himself as the doors opened by themselves and just as James was sure that there was nothing else that could surprise him that day, he was greeted by the sight of a beautiful garden.

 

The strong smell of freshly cut grass combined with that of the flowers made it clear that the foliage was real although the place was much too deep underground for the lighting to be natural. Still, it was a nice effect and James actually tilted his head back and took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to fully relax.

 

“Quite relaxing, isn’t it?” Yet another stranger asked from right next to him, James doing little else but tensing up as he turned to face the man. “Welcome to my little corner of paradise, Mister Bond,” the stranger continued with a soft smile on his face, looking more like a fae than a real human with his pale skin, green eyes, and wild brown hair.

 

“I’m beginning to think that I’ll forever be at a disadvantage in this place,” James said, quickly giving the thin man a onceover to try and discern if he had any weapon hidden on him which was made infinitely easier by the fact that the man only had a pair of shorts on and a long, burgundy robe that was opened and shoved off his chest. James liked what he saw and it wouldn’t be one of his missions if he didn’t at least try to bag someone who might want him to be dead. “Will you be as cryptic as R or will you introduce yourself?”

 

“Q,” the man said, amused by the frustrated look James had as yet another door opened in the back of the garden. “Now that introductions are complete, let’s eat.”

 

“I’m very sure that a letter doesn’t really count as a name,” James grumbled, but still followed Q into the other room – he was already at the mercy of whoever ran this place and he’d lost contact with MI6 long before he found this place, so what if he died in a room filled to the brim with computers instead of a garden?

 

“And yet, it is my name,” Q sing sang, pilling some form of Chinese food on his plate before sitting down at the head of the table. “Eat carefully,” Q stressed when he realized that in the time it took him to take a single bite of his food, James had practically inhaled an entire chicken breast. “You’re a former soldier of sorts so you have to know that if you eat too much, too fast after a long period of not eating anything, you get sick, right?”

 

The way Q looked at him – with a mix of pity and disgust – made James feel embarrassment and he quickly wiped his mouth and hands as he suddenly remembered what silverware was and how it was used. “Three days is not that long,” James said in his defence, hoping that he was right.

 

Q shrugged, pushing a plate full of meat closer to James. “Then dig in, Mister Bond. There’s more where this came from and everything so far is on the house and with that perfect segue, are you the type who likes to talk about business during dinner, or would you like to wait until you’re done with the inevitable nap that will follow this feast?”

 

“Just how big is this place? How does no one know where exactly this place is? We aren’t moving, so it has to be a fixed place and….” James started but then trailed off, realizing that he was wasting his breath when he saw Q’s smirk. “Okay, then might I finally find out who my kind benefactor is?”

 

“You’re looking at him,” Q said simply, shoving a piece of bread in James’ mouth to keep him silent. “Who exactly I am and how I do everything I do is not on what you need to focus right now. Why don’t you ask me the more important questions like ‘what is Spectre’, ‘who is leading it’, and ‘how can I stop them from taking over the world’?”

 

James arched his eyebrow. “Why would I ask those questions?”

 

“Do you really think that pretending that the reason your stuffy boss with the boring internet history and civilian life sent you on a chase for a rumour isn’t Spectre would trick me?” Q tutted, frowning. “Tell me, Mister Bond, how can I respect my elders when they insult my intelligence?”

 

James wondered how much M would give Q to share with him his ability to put James back in his place with virtually no effort. “In my defence, I am a spy and you can’t expect me to show you all of my cards right from the start.”

 

“And yet you tell me so easily that you’re a spy?” Q countered, feigning shock for a moment before turning serious. “Mister Bond, I saw your cards are they were dealt and you got the crappiest hand in the universe. Not that I’ll help you for free. I run a business, not a charity.”

 

For as harmless and angelic as Q looked, it was clear that James was going to have to sell his soul for this mission to get completed.


	20. If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Trek AU of sorts.
> 
> Feel free to correct the Klingon/Betazoid/Romulan - also, don't worry; not that many words and if you're confused, you understand how James feels like

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed,” Jameska teased the science officer, Alec humming with pleasure and in agreeance in his at the suggestion.

 

“Lohd Zoss-lee chaw-KU sohk jaTAL,” the human snarled, baring his teeth while insulting him in perfect Klingon and trying to hide his entire team behind him. “Do not address me or my crew, Sli Vak. We have nothing the likes of you would need, so get off my ship already,” he continued to order, not even blinking when all of Jameska’s men trained their weapons on him which only made Jameska want to reach out and ruffle his wild, brown hair even more – but his self-preservation instinct as well as Alec warning him to he’d best keep his hands to himself lest he wanted to lose one of them to the science officer’s teeth.

 

Holding his hand up to keep his crew from killing the foolishly brave science officer right where he stood, Jameska continued to tease from a safe distance. “Don’t you think you strayed just a bit too much from whatever mothership spat this hunk of junk out in search for my services?”

 

“PetaQ,” the man snarled and then spat at Jameska’s feet, eyes going wild as he kicked in the stomach one of James’ men who charged him against orders, digging his nails in his cheeks so he could easily pull him forward and smash his head into his knee while one of his own crew – a Cardassian female – struggled her best to pull him out of harm’s way.

 

“ _Feisty,_ ” Alec whispered in Jameska’s mind.

 

“Yes,” Jameska agreed under his breath, signalling their doctor to make his move. “Young and reckless too,” he added in a louder voice, watching the science officer drop to the ground after the hypospray took effect, the doctor now focusing on their own. “Now how about we play nice since those hyposprays are much too expensive for me to use on any of you?” He asked the sleeping science officer’s crew, feeling himself becoming annoyed when it was obvious that the 19 remaining people weren’t intimidated and were instead trying to find the best way to attack everyone.

 

He’d ran into Starfleet in the past and he knew that they were a stubborn bunch, but he never imagined that he’d have this much trouble with a ship filled only with what amounted to engine fixers and nurses and even though he was could be considered nothing more than an outlaw, he didn’t take any pleasure in harming those who didn’t deserve it.

 

“ _In all honesty, we are pirates and our own crew would be as murderous as them if they thought you or I got killed_ ,” Alec supplied just as Jameska dodged a tricorder thrown at his head by the Cardassian female and caught one of his men by the back of his shirt before he could embarrass himself and Jameska. “ _I mean, look at how they ignored your order just because these little mice insulted you._ ”

 

“Almost endearing if it wasn’t outright insubordination,” Jameska growled out loud, fixing his general with a glare that said if one more of his men moved without being ordered to, they’d be punished alongside them. “Now, if you’d use tricorders for what their supposed to be used instead of projectiles, you’ll see that your mouthy leader is just sleeping.”

 

Eighteen tricorders were trained on the sleeping science officer even before Jameska was done talking and he couldn’t help but laugh at that. How a force that had this kind of people in its ranks gave his mighty empire trouble was certainly quite a big mystery if he were to fall back on everything he had been taught as a child in their institutions, especially when he took into consideration their knocked out superior.

 

A man like him, despite his obvious loyalty to his crew, would be nothing more than a simple pawn in his Empire as they did not have any use for a commander that would sacrifice themselves to save his subordinates. Now, if he sacrificed himself, his crew, and his ship to take out the enemy to wash the shame of allowing themselves to be bettered by their enemies, that would be different but no commander that was willing do to that would allow his crew to cower behind him as they hissed – in Klingon, no less – at his would-be captors.

 

“We’re wasteful like that,” Jameska muttered under his breath in answer to the unasked question that hummed in the back of his mind, signalling him men – who had used the moments of panic to get in better positions – to cease the rival group and subdue them with as little violence as possible.

 

***

Q’u woke up feeling naked and staring at a ghastly cream coloured ceiling with patches of rust here and there that he had never seen in his life. His muscles tingled like the way they always did after Rolir that as his personal doctor, she could help him fall asleep – with a hypospray – in the middle of important projects.

 

His memory returned to him in a flash and Q’u’s hand immediately went to his combadge, realizing that the reason he felt naked wasn’t because his clothes had been removed, but because someone had taken his combadge away. His belt had also been removed and his captives had been paranoid – and smart – enough to also remove his shoes, succeeding in making him feel useless and in danger for the first time since the Academy.

 

He was also aware that someone was in the room near him, watching him carefully and he didn’t waste any time turning to glare at them, his anger growing when his eyes fell on the blond Romulan from before.

 

“Mak’dar,” he snarled, hands fisting by his side. “Where are you taking us? What do you want with us? Your empire is dead, why continue to be a Ha'DIbaH?” He waited for the Romulan to answer him, but the bastard just continued to study him in silence and with an annoying smile on his lips and Q’u felt like he was close to exploding hard enough to do something stupid like slap the energy field that separated them. “Jatlh!” He ordered, digging his nails in the palms of his hands to keep himself in place.

 

“Nurture over nature,” the Romulan finally muttered, clicking his tongue. “Apparently I have bad manners because I haven’t introduced myself. I’m—”

 

“Your lack of manners started when you attacked my ship,” Q’u interrupted him, looking disgusted as he at the ground. “Keep your name, qoH, and give me back my crew, ship, and freedom instead.”

 

The Romulan sighed again, clearly frustrated which brought a bit of joy to Q’u. “I give you my word that everything will be returned to you in due time, but—” He stopped suddenly and nodded to himself, making Q’u wonder just how sane he was – then again, he suspected that being aware that you are an endangered species screwed up with your mind and that tugged at Q’u’s heart strings against his better judgement. “My word means nothing to you, of course. I am a Romulan after all and as a Starfleet officer and adoptive son of the great Klingonian house of this and that, you were practically raised with stories of why my kind should be hated.”

 

Q’u snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you think that you can scare me into doing or giving you whatever you want by mentioning little details about me, then you’re an idiot that’s wasting both our times.”

 

That made the Romulan laugh for some reason. “Please, just think of me as Jameska already and I’m laughing because this is the first time you don’t insult me in Klingonian which makes me wonder if you’re only using that language because you think you’ll anger me or if you slip into it when you’re angry.”

 

He was reading his mind and since he saw no major change in his Romulan looks or any trace of something technological on him that meant that he was… “A half-Romulan, half-Betazoid,” Q’u stated out loud, eyes widening. “A bit too late in the game for that gene mix, don’t you think?”

 

“Full Romulan, I assure you, and you’re giving the old leaders of my home world too much credit,” Jameska said dismissingly. “No, unfortunately my Betazoid mate is currently unable to fully control his powers due to an illness and he finds it very amusing to relate to me the way you think of me. He even tries to imitate your accent.”

 

Q’u’s jaw dropped in shock and insult and he instantly tried to cover shield his actual thoughts by thinking about old nursery rhymes. “I don’t have any important Starfleet codes, so your mate is wasting his time.”

 

“Alec is not reading your mind on purpose and he’s struggling not to invade your subconscious. I don’t expect a technician to believe me, but your medical staff can confirm that such an illness exists among Betazoids.” The Romulan sounded truly upset and the way he made himself seem taller by straightening his shoulders was nothing compared to how much colder the room had gotten when he trained his blue eyes on Q’u, fists clenched by his side. “Insult me all you want, mock my former home world to your heart’s content and be sure that I’ll join you, but rest assure that I draw the line at my mate, especially when he’s ill.”

 

His voice had dropped to a low, rough whisper that promised never ending pain should Q’u badmouth his mate again but Q’u refused to apologize to the Romulan – he did _think_ that he was sorry for insulting his mate when they weren’t present or able to defend themselves and he hoped the Betazoid heard that – or show that he was afraid. “The only way you can ensure that will never happen without using violence is by letting me and my crew go.”

 

“I will,” The Romulan growled and then took a deep breath and forced himself to slouch forward a little and smile, making it very obvious that _someone_ had told him to calm down and try again. “I will,” he said again, softer, calmer.

 

“But?”

 

“But we need your help first.” He tapped a small pad that he had hidden inside of his palm and the panels in Q’u’s cell pulled back, revealing that they were getting nearer an abandoned settlement – except, when Q’u squinted his eyes, he could see people. “Or rather, _they_ need your help.”

 

***

In all honesty, when he had given Q’u access to their pathetic communication centre after showing him around the settlement, Jameska had expected the man to ask Starfleet to send their flagship to rescue them and have everyone else arrested, especially since he had allowed Q’u to have all his crew with him when he made that call to prove that despite kidnapping them, they weren’t hostages.

 

But the young human continued to surprise him and instead of rightfully asking his superiors to have everyone involved in his kidnapping arrested, he started the long process of having the unlived class M planet declared a refugee colony which guaranteed Starfleet’s help.

 

“I suggest you think about asking for help _before_ resorting to kidnapping in the future, Romulan,” the human added after giving him the good news. “And since I’ll remain here until you are up and running and all the paperwork is complete, you can call me Q’u.” He held out his hand, stiffening when Jameska grabbed it.

 

Q’u looked outright terrified when he was pulled slightly forward by the Romulan. “You can’t imagine how happy I am that your name not only easy to moan, but an invitation to do so. I hope you’ll give me many chances to use it.”

 

“Well, yours sounds like a cat is trying to cough up something so you can be sure that I won’t be using it all that much,” Q’u deadpanned, easily freeing his hand in order to grab a pad from the Cardassian female who had tossed a tricorder at Jameska’s head back on the ship.

 

“I know you can talk it, but have you _heard_ Klingonian?” Jameska asked, winking at the hissed insult that left Q’u’s lips. “Trust me, hissing my name would be easier on your throat.”

 

Q’u’s nostrils flared up and his face turned red, like he was getting ready to explode and Jameska couldn’t wait for it. But then the bloody pad in his hand made a little noise and he had forgotten all about his anger and Jameska, waiving over a few of his crew and starting to give them orders.

 

Jameska waited patiently for Q’u to be done, understanding half an hour later that _that_ wasn’t going to happen soon. He knew, of course, that there was a lot to do in the colony but he had been sure at the start of the day that he was going to have to send the kids with their big eyes and trembling lips to get whatever Starfleet workers he got his paws on to at least look at what was left of their replicators so seeing them buzz around on their own and either fiddling with things that produced sparks just when you looked at them or barking orders at people who easily towered over them made him hate his Empire even more than he already did.

 

It took twenty minutes for all of Q’u’s minions to disperse, quickly rushing to whatever sector of the colony had been assigned to them, determination clear in their eyes and Jameska himself made sure to send a quick message to his own people to order them to no aggravate Q’u’s crew and to stay out of their way unless it was requested of them to assist – Starfleet might have renounced money a long time ago but he got the feeling that Q’u would make them pay for all the ruined tricorders that would result out of his crew members getting annoyed.

 

“Well, now that you’re done…” He started, intending to continue aggravating what was his saviour, only to trail off when Q’u walked right by him like he wasn’t even there. “Well, that’s just rude.”

 

“ _You did kidnap him_ , _so you were the rude one first,_ ” Alec chimed in his head, also sharing with him the pleasure he felt stretching.

 

“Good morning to you too,” Jameska retorted, already making his way back to his living quarters.

 

In the long ago past, the illness that Alec suffered from had claimed the lives of many Betazoids, their inability to control their own power driving them insane. The Vulcans were the ones who found a way to help Betazoids survive the illness, teaching them how to put themselves in a healing trance for most of the day that, even though it didn’t completely stop them from accidentally intruding on the thoughts of everyone near them, it did lessen their ability to do that and even offered them the possibility to drown out even more unwanted thoughts in their mind.

 

Nowadays, Betazoids suffering of this illness were isolated as much as possible, their current life partners following them to keep them for going insane from the deafening silence and to help care for them. Jameska didn’t really have that option as he couldn’t fly by himself the only real ship the colony had aimlessly around while everything else failed back down on the planet, he did the next best thing – and namely take Alec with him on his desperate ‘resource runs’.

 

But Alec was still motionless for two weeks, connected to the ship’s life support, silent everywhere but in his mind, reassuring Jameska time and time that he was as fine as he could be, Jameska couldn’t stop from feeling giddy as he ran in their apartment and wrapped his arms around Alec, pulling him in a tight hug.

 

“Easy does it, imzadi,” Alec whispered in a hoarse voice, struggling to wrap his legs around his middle. “I also missed seeing you with my actual eyes and feeling you, but you don’t want to render me useless again, now do you?”

 

“H'levreinnye, it’s not like you’re making things easy for me right now,” Jameska growled, struggling to focus more on turning on the water and less on how good it felt to have Alec lick and nibble his neck – as well as that little whisper in the back of his mind that assured him that Alec would love being unable to leave the bed for another couple of weeks if it was due to their pleasant activities. “We both know that you can’t even stand upright on your own, so cease your tempting.”

 

“Can’t blame a Betazoid for trying,” Alec murmured, cupping Jameska’s chin to give him a chaste kiss. “You’ve lost so much weight, imzadi—”

 

“You _know_ Starfleet is helping us now, so no need to worry about anything,” Jameska interrupted, placing his forefinger on his lips to keep him from talking. “Whatever it is, just no. You’re the only one we need to worry about right now, so don’t even bother.”

 

Alec broadcasted his reluctance to do that, but allowed Jameska to fuss about him and pamper him as much as he wanted since he did love it when that happened despite his warrior soul – he was a Betazoid after all, not a Klingon. He understood that love can be shown with little careful touches and other signs of affections, not just with the prized weapons of the fallen and the heads of their enemies.

 

He was also aware of how hard it was for Jameska to show genuine care to someone who wasn’t part of the once glorious Empire as even though he had rebelled against his home world teachings, there was still that small part of him that had been drilled into his young mind when he was at school that warned him that he might just be used and that it wasn’t proper to care this much about someone who wasn’t a Romulan and for that, Alec loved him even more.  

 

He also made sure to broadcast that as well, to reassure Jameska but also because a Romulan with a slight green tint on his cheeks tickled him just right, chuckling when his mate silently demanded that he stopped his teasing as it wasn’t proper given their age.

 

Alec chuckled, running his hands through Jameska’s damp blond locks. “There isn’t anything proper about us, imzadi, or do I need to remind you about all those times we—”

 

“Go back to embarrassing me instead of making me horny,” Jameska interrupted Alec again, starting to growl when the replicator ignored his commands. “It was working when we got here a few hours ago.”

 

“Q’u shut it down to work on it and I’ll make sure to let him know that the living quarter doors are also completely useless since they open to anyone without them being invited in or announcing themselves,” the Cardassian female who had thrown a tricorder at his head said as she entered their quarters, brand new tricorder tightly clutched in her hand. “He also mentioned that you might need my skills, although he didn’t say why.” She glanced at the smiling Alec and, after putting two and two together, her featured softened as she smiled. “I’m Lieutenant Rolir, Q’u’s primary doctor and a leading expert when it comes to Betazoid physiognomy.”

 

Alec didn’t need to read Jameska’s mind to know that his hand on his arm was all that kept him from throwing the woman out - the glare was enough. “Why don’t you go check and make sure Q’u knows where his quarters are?” For Alec to be the calming one was almost unheard of, but despite what many thought of him, he knew that he needed to turn into the rational one when he was wounded due to the fact that Jameska turned into a rabid animal around him. “She’s a doctor,” he added, squeezing Jameska’s arm tighter. “And she’ll be gentle.”

 

“As you are not the one who kidnapped us, I promise that I will,” Rolir added, clutching the tricorder harder when Jameska took a few steps closer to her. “Be warned Romulan that concussion are my forte.”

 

“Giving them, treating them, or sustaining them?” Jameska challenged, himself ready to smack that tricorder right back at her head if she actually threw it.

 

Rolir started to growl, her nostrils flaring. “Why don’t I show you?”

 

“ _Imzadi, weren’t you the one who always said to never antagonize those who bring you food and those who hold your life in their hands?_ ” Alec asked within Jameska in his mind, also making him aware of how uncomfortable and tired he was. “ _I sense no ill intent on her part; just frustration and annoyance._ ”

 

With that assurance, Jameska backed down. “I will chose to believe that you are decent at treating them and leave it at that,” he said slowly, forcing himself to smile pleasantly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have to find proper accommodations for your commander and the rest of your crew.”

 

He left before the Rolir could say anything, asking Alec to let him know the second anything went wrong – rolling his eyes when his mate cheerfully corrected his certainty to only a very slight possibility that had to do more with his species than with Rolir abilities – and quickly made his way to where he assumed Q’u would be.

 

It wasn’t surprising to find a large group of civilians huddled close to the main Maintenance building, but it was very surprising to find the roughest of his crew carefully handling what looked to be very sensitive equipment while Q’u was stuffed half-way in a large tube in the middle of the room and kindly asking them to hand him things that sounded made up.

 

For a moment, Jameska was tempted to sneak up on him and poke him in the ribs, amazed at how curious he found himself to be about whether Q’u would break into a long string of hissed Klingon insults coupled with attack attempts or if he’d find another way to get back to him. Then again, Q’u was doing them a huge favour and he did have a pretty nice backside that he might be robbed of if he acted this childishly – not to mention that he would hate to see a dent in that pretty head of his – so Jameska made sure to clear his throat as loudly as possible to get his attention.

 

Evidently he didn’t do it loud enough because Q’u continued to slither further down the tube, so Jameska took a large step closer and coughed again. And then again. After the third time, he didn’t have to force himself to cough and his throat felt like he had swallowed a ball of nails.

 

“All available medical staff has already been assigned to the most urgent cases,” Q’u muttered, suddenly yelping when his shimming went too far and he started to slip.

 

Jameska moved fast and grabbed Q’u’s leg, dragging him out, and unceremoniously depositing him on the ground – though he was careful not to hit his head. “Well then it would be most unfortunate for you if you were to hurt yourself, now wouldn’t it?” He teased, offering Q’u his arm to help him stand up.

 

Q’u bared his teeth like he was ready to snarl, but then cleared his throat and actually accepted Jameska’s help. “I should have the replicators back online within the hour, but you can use the ones on my ship until then if you—”

 

“I’m here to discuss about your quarters,” Jameska interrupted him, amused at the look of confusion that Q’u had. “Unless you’re fine with your people sleeping wherever?”

 

“Actual quarters are greatly appreciated,” Q’u said quickly, dusting himself off and waving one of Jameska’s own men closer so he could dig through a toolbox. “After running a surface check on the colony, I assumed that we would sleep on our sheep. Was I wrong?”

 

“Well no, but…” He trailed off, shuffling closer to the tube in which Q had stuffed himself in again and quickly grabbed his legs, doing his best not to look at his ass – admiring it from afar he thought to be acceptable, but ogling when he was this close made even him uncomfortable. “That temperamental Cardassian female is the only reason why you’re still alive, isn’t she?”

 

“Her name is Rolir,” Q’u uselessly reminded Jameska, flinching and then hissing a curse.

 

“Did you drop your tools again?” Jameska asked, trying not to sound amused. Q’u’s silence was all the confirmation he needed so he easily pulled him out and pushed him behind him, taking his weapon out and cutting the metal tube in half with little thought. “As I know the tube has no real function, its removal will make your job easier,” Jameska explained to the stunned Q’u.

 

“It helps ventilate the main replicator component,” Q’u started to explain, taking Jameska’s gun away. “But your weapon can be modified temporarily into the right welding tool and without the tube getting in my way, the replicators will be working better than ever in just half an hour.”

 

Jameska almost growled at Q’u when he took his weapon away as it was the last thing in the universe that he had from his family, but since he didn’t want Q’u to consider him even more of a savage than he already did, he was satisfied with simply glaring at him for a moment before leaving Q’u to his own devices. After all, it was only fair that he trusted Q’u with his weapon when Q’u trusted him with his safety.

 

His walk around the colony improved when Alec joined him, Rolir handing him a pad with what she expected the still recovering Betazoid to eat and do to ensure that her services were no longer needed before hurrying off to where Q’u was, probably unaware that she was voicing her fears for how he would inadvertently hurt himself with Jameska’s weapon.

 

Said weapon was returned to him in perfect condition two hours later by a Q’u covered in what had to be soot, Jameska regretting his light teasing when his invitation to introduce him to Alec was promptly shut down and Q’u made himself scarce before he could even think of the proper way to apologize without actually doing so – the disapproving look he got from Alec a few seconds later didn’t help.

 

“I thought he’d come in and dirty the sofa just to spite me,” Jameska said honestly. “He didn’t seem like the kind of human who would be flustered by a simple tease.”

 

Alec snorted, his frown disappearing when he took a sip of the replicated synthol – it will never be as good as the real thing, but at least this time, it tasted like something other than dirt mixed with already foul-tasting water. “You forget that he is human and that they work differently from us, imzadi.” He carefully cupped Jameska’s face and brought their foreheads together, and they both instantly knew what they truly felt.

 

“Well, I seem to remember that one of our lovers said that sullen humans need their space, so I’ll start patching things up tomorrow,” Jameska promised as Alec had made not only his point, but also his interest in Q’u known.

 

The following day, Jameska made his way to Q’u’s ship with a neutral look on his face – as Alec pointed out that any Starfleet personnel would find a smiling Romulan disconcerting and maybe even creepy – and a steaming cup of replicated coffee, hoping that the thought really counted more.

 

But Q’u had left his quarters long before the dawn, his crew completely in the dark about where exactly he went. Oh, he was up and about in the colony, fixing this and that, but they had no idea what, the sleepiest of Q’u’s crew telling Jameska to try his hard to remember what worked the least before they showed up and test it to see if it was properly working – in which case it meant that Q’u was done with it and he needed to look in another place – or if it had stopped working altogether – which meant that Q’u was there, fixing it.

 

That didn’t really help because everything in the colony worked as bad as it could without outright not working and there were at least four things that had worked before he left, but were now no longer working, his own people confused as to when that happened. He did eventually find Q’u, but by then the replicated coffee had turned into an even more disgusting cold liquid and he himself was irked now that he had been painfully reminded of how close to destruction this colony had been so he didn’t want to distract Q’u from what he was doing.

 

He did leave his gun next to Q’u’s pad though as he had once again stuffed himself in a large metallic tube that Jameska didn’t really see the point of other than to take up more room and offer Q’u am extra chance to get wounded and his Cardassian doctor to throw more things at his head.

 

Jameska got lucky the following day in that he actually got to exchange a few words with Q’u, although the man looked terrible and he was in too much of a rush to actually talk with him. All he said was that he didn’t drink coffee, the weather was too warm for him, and that he was working on getting the class four industrial replicator as soon as he was done high grade ones.

 

“Shouldn’t you leave something for Starfleet to do?” Jameska asked, sure that Q’u would have looked ten times better if he’d been kept in confinement for three days.

 

Q’u snarled, wiping his hands on his dirty uniform before reaching for his pad. “They’ll take another month to get here. I just want to be sure that there’s still a _here_ when they do finally show off,” he grumbled, glaring at the pad like he was hoping to explode in his hand.

 

“I’m starting to feel bad I brought you here,” Jameska muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering where the nearest hypospray was.

 

“You _should_ feel bad about kidnapping people, Romulan,” Q’u snarled, distracted from whatever he wanted to say by one of Jameska’s own men called him over to a fuming computer. “No hot water for anyway today,” Q’u grumbled and Jameska slowly retreated, promising himself – and the ever eavesdropping Alec – that he would distract Q’u the following day.

 

Only, when Jameska went to Q’u’s quarters early in the morning, they were empty and the Cardassian female was barking orders left and right because Q’u hadn’t returned to his room at all the previous night and no one seemed to know where he was.

 

***

A cold feeling of dread and helplessness suddenly washed over Alec and he knew right away that Q’u was the one feeling that and that it was in the exact opposite part of the colony from where his Quarters were. Logic, common sense, and protocol dictated that he notified the rest of the search party of his findings. However, since he was not only a Betazoid, but also Alec, he went after Q’u by himself – he did grab the first aid kit they had in their room though.

 

Alec tracked Q’u down to one of the three service halls just on the outskirts of the colony and he knew that he was somewhere below it, but that’s as far as his reading would take him and while if he were in a similar situation with Jameska, he’d just lightly tug on their mental connection to get a sense of his exact location, he didn’t have such a connection with Q’u.

 

A sudden stab of incredible pain made him hiss and for a moment, he was tempted to simply invade Q’u’s mind and find out where he was right away, regretting not grabbing one of the five doctors he passed by on his way here, but he stopped himself as he didn’t want to inflict any more damage on the poor human.

 

“Q’u, can you tell me where you are?” He yelled instead of top of his lungs, kneeling down and bringing his ear to the ground as he strained himself to send the feeling of safety as far as he could. “I’m a Betazoid, so if you could just focus on—” He was interrupted and literally floored by the mental kick he got in return, his brain inundated by a very clear picture of where Q’u was and how he got there.

 

It was unusual for a human to have such a strong psychic presence, but than that pretty much proved that what he had felt when Jameska brought Q’u on the ship to be correct – Q’u was that little piece that was still missing from both of them. He doubted Q’u knew that since he was human and Jameska was a stubborn Romulan who, even though he rebelled against his kind long before Romulus destroyed, his own powers were very limited as fully accessing them would mean following a path similar to Vulcans.

 

“That is also good,” Alec said after the vision faded away, needing a second to regain his senses and another one to tell Jameska to hurry over to where he was with Rolir before crawling over to a trapdoor.

 

With the ‘map’ clear in his mind and all the danger zones marked, he got to Q’u in less than five minutes, but the new problem was getting him out since a piece of metal was clearly sticking out through his right leg and he got the distinct feeling that there was also a problem with Q’u’s eyes.

 

“The pipe next to the one I was working on broke and the steam got into my eyes,” Q’u managed to whimper, trembling as he blindly felt the space in front of him.

 

“I take it that calm means that Rolir will be able to fix everything and focus on getting you out of here,” Alec said, making sure to make as much noise possible while crawling closer to Q’u.

 

“Mostly shock, but also quite a lot of trust,” Q’u admitted in a breathless whisper, grabbing hold of Alec’s arm. “Speaking of which, I don’t suppose she’s here right now with one of her magic hyposprays?”

 

Alec clicked his tongue, using the only left hypospray in the kit. “I’ll get you to her,” he promised, helping Q’u lie back down. “Will anything explode if I use Jameska’s weapon to cut the pipe that’s in your leg?”

 

“Of course I cut the power to this place off before I started to work in it,” Q attempted to hiss, but his words came out slow, slurred, like he was drunk. “You know, I don’t think we need to get Rolir involved. I feel just fine now so I’m sure I just exaggerated.”

 

“We’ll let Rolir decide that,” Alec muttered as he focused on quickly cutting the rob out of the wall as he feared that trying to pull it out wouldn’t only just make the hypospray useless, but would also result in Q’u bleeding to death. “So, ignoring your current condition and how you got here, how do you find our colony?”

 

Q’u snorted before clutching tighter to Alec’s arm as he started to be carefully dragged out of there. “Tiresome, although that’s all one me for being what they call an workaholic,” he said honestly, head lulling to the side.

 

Alec shook him lightly, picking up the pace. “I’ve been told that you curse very well in Klingonian and that’s not an easy feat for a human. How do you do it?” he asked, very aware of the fact that he needed to keep the conversation going and not let Q’u fall asleep.

 

“Learned every word from my older brothers,” Q’u murmured. “And father because every time he caught them cussing around me, he’d blow a fuse and start cussing at them himself until my mother kicked him in the head and waved around her bat'leth.”

 

Alec was quick to put two and two even without reading Q’u’s mind and although he felt happiness radiating for him, he couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Klingons – like all known creatures that didn’t live in a conglomerate mass or in a hive-mind like community – could be excellent parents and by the look of Q’u, they did not fail in their task. But for a human to get those kind of parents… Well.

 

“Are you good with the bat’leth as well?” Alec continued to probe, cringing when he saw the tight turn he had to make – and happy to hear Jameska that he was on his way with a very angry Rolir and a box full of hyposprays that she had collected from her ship.

 

“Best human out there,” Q’u whimpered, hugging Alec tighter as he tried his best not to outright cry in pan. “Father was against it, of course, but he quickly changed his mind after Grandmother visited us for two days.”

 

Alec continued to ask all sorts of questions that Q’u happily answered. His siblings adored him even if they wanted to drown him the first time they saw him because they were sure he would bring dishonour to their family, he very obviously did not follow the path of a warrior, his parents had let him have Earth pets, and he liked tea. Not synthesised tea, mind you. No, no, no. That thing was a bigger insult than coffee in his opinion.

 

Q’u’s little tea rant got cut short by them finally reaching the exit and Alec sighed in relief at the sight of the rescue crew.

 

“I did not expect to find him _this_ wounded,” he said in his defence to both Jameska and Rolir as he carefully lied Q’u down on the stretcher. “I mean, it was his fear that led me here, not his pain,” he continued, walking alongside the stretcher.

 

“Name,” Q’u murmured. “I never asked what your name is or how you found me.”

 

“I’m Alec,” he said, carefully getting Q’u to release his shirt so he could shake his hand. “I’m a Betazoid, so your strong feelings led me here,” Alec then reiterated, realizing that Q’u had been so deep underground that he had only _felt_ him, not heard him.

 

“The Romulan’s mate?” Q’u asked, frowning when his eyes fell on the silent and stone-faced Jameska.

 

“ _One_ of his mates,” Alec said right before Q’u’s team got him to release Alec’s hand, winking at him as he was wheeled out of his sight.

 

“Last time I checked,” Jameska started, linking their arms together to have an easier way dragging him back to their quarters, “you were my one and _only_ mate.”

 

Alec grinned. “Yes, but that’s going to guarantee him coming over and maybe start calling you by your name.”

 

“That or ‘horny Romulan’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klingon:  
> Lohd Zoss-lee chaw-KU sohk jaTAL - Go have sexual relations with your own Mother  
> Sli Vak - someone who sleeps around  
> PetaQ - insult  
> Mak’dar - Another insult  
> Ha'DIbaH - animal  
> Jatlh - speak!  
> qoH - idiot
> 
> Betazoid:  
> imzadi - beloved
> 
> Romulan:  
> H'levreinnye - lust-devil, love-devil (term of endearment)


End file.
